"Of course ma'am, uh, we would also like to award you with a
Medal of Honor given to your husband for his immense bravery in
battle." The officer hands me a little medal tied to a piece of ribbon like
a necklace, or a noose.
"My deepest condolences, Ms. Caiden" the officer says.
I ask them to leave the body and they do. I think they expect me
to cry or to scream or to cuss them out but I will do none of those
things. When it is made clear that I will not cry or scream or cuss or
any combination thereof, the officers leave. I wait till I can hear their
boots no longer then I grab a shovel and my husband's body and set to
work digging my husband's grave. I think about throwing the medal as
far as I can, but instead I place it around my neck. As I dig, my arm and
back starts to ache, but I keep going. It's easier to focus on the pain in
my arms than the reality of this situation. I told him not to be brave. I
told him I don't care if he deserts, just come back home. No, he had to
be brave. It is so easy to be brave now that you are dead, isn't it?
When you're dead it's easy to be brave, there is nothing to be afraid
of. But, what about me? How I am supposed to be brave when I have to
run this family by myself?
How am I supposed to tell the children? What about the children?
They are still so young. Little Nora Grace, she is only an infant. She will
now grow up fatherless. As will Augustus, Simon and William, and they
are not yet five. Look at me, twenty- one years of age and I am a widow
with four children left to raise on my own. How are we supposed to
make a living? I cannot run this farm by myself, but it looks like
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