Repose

They told me to stay down. Doc said the bleeding had gotten out of hand. Shrapnel all in my face. One of my eyes—gone. Lacerated femoral artery. I laid still in the sand, as morphine coalesced with the adrenaline and endorphins surging through my system.

Gunfire sang staccato from the mountains nearby. Humvee smoke and burnt flesh danced on the breeze. The CO’s barks soon buried by a nameless, empty noise.

I was fading fast.

Desert sun. Blackness. My brothers’ silhouettes. The void. Back and forth. Time undone.

Only one thought tethered me to the present. My daughter. Her smile. Her laugh. Her eyes alive with light. Last thing she said before I deployed was, “Don’t go, Daddy. Don’t go.”

She’ll be five come July. Not sure if I’ll live to see it.

And then in a snap, my whole body seized up. Cold. Couldn’t breathe. No matter how deeply I inhaled, it wasn’t enough. Each gasp felt like the last. Until it finally was.

I let go.

Vision narrowed to nothing. No sensation. Not a single sound. I was nowhere to be found. In between the never and the now.

Suddenly, a hand pulled me from the gloom. Somehow I knew it was His.

A blue hue bloomed in the dark. His presence—pure love, exultant joy—shone at the center with a perfect golden brilliance, bringing the cool, cerulean sphere into stark relief. He smiled. Called my name.

“Aaron. Follow me.”

The Prince of Peace enveloped me. Jesus. My Lord welcomed me home.