2008
Twenty-three years ago when I moved and had to leave my best friends behind, I thought was one of the hardest things I’d ever done.
The day I discovered those fifteen minutes at the club were the basis of my career crashing and burning after I received a letter of recommended separation, signed by General Cantarelli. A letter my superiors swore up and down would never come because I did my duty checking up on my boys. That I left when I needed to leave, as to not fraternize. But then I discovered their friendship and loyalty was nothing more than smoke coming out of their asses because when the general got wind of the strip club fiasco, and to set an example that he didn’t believe in that behavior, and they needed a scapegoat, I was it. When I needed help, my so-called friends turned their backs on me.
I was ostracized.
A failure.
During those days, I thought my world had ended.
I was wrong because neither of those moments holds a candle to today.
Those moments were hard and life altering, but they will never compare to this moment.
This now.
They will never compare to the feeling of saying the final goodbye to one of the most important people in your life.
Today is the worst day of my life. As I stand with my brothers—Jax, Zeke, Damon, and Duke—and have Gabriel, Jake’s older brother, beside us, we carry our fallen brother’s casket. Silent tears stream down our faces with every step we take. A step closer to that moment where will have to admit he is forever gone.
Gone is the time to hold our tears back because today, we have to accept that our best friend and brother is gone.
It’s time to accept that this is not a nightmare from which I will awaken, shake the thought out of my head, and then call him to tell him about it.
That will never happen.
I will never get to see him, speak to him, or hug the ugly bastard again because one person’s bad decision cost him his life.
Jake is gone, and I’m left behind to live my life without him.
The priest’s words are muffled sounds to my ears. I see him. I hear him. But nothing registers through this foggy reality, except the fact that there is one person missing from our brotherhood.
My eyes scan the cemetery, seeing Soldiers of various ranks and uniforms gathered around paying their respects to their fallen comrade, friend, and a known dedicated Soldier.
Beside me stands our group. Like me, their eyes are half closed, their hands fisted at their sides, and their jaws clenched shut, trying to keep the sobs at bay. We knew one day we would have to say goodbye, but no one expected it to be so soon.
A light breeze pushes through, bringing coolness to this hot May day in Texas. It’s crazy, but I swear, in that moment, I feel Jake beside me. Standing next to me, where he would stand every time we were together, and that pat on the back he would always greet me with. As the waft of air makes its way through our congregation, I feel that presence dim, and I struggle to choke back a cry.
It hurts so fucking bad. Like a part of me is being yanked out of my soul.
The call sounds to ready the military firing team. With a mind of their own, my feet move toward Jake’s casket. Jax, Zeke, Damon, Duke, and Gabriel follow suit, and we stand at attention in a circle around Jake one last time.
The first round of gunshots rips through the air—sharp, clear, and deafening—and I dig my fingernails into my gloved palms. The second round sounds, and then the third. With each round, my heart aches and my world darkens because this is no nightmare.
This is my life.
“You got it?” Jax whispers loudly when I open the driver’s side door of my pickup truck. He doesn’t give me a chance to step foot on the ground.
“Yeah, it’s in the back.” I point toward the bed of the truck with a jerk of my thumb.
“Good.” Damon greets me with a pat on the back and a one-arm hug. “Zeke and Duke got the beer and dip. Jax and I set up the chairs.”
“Hurry the hell up. We ain’t got all night.” Jax opens the back, rushing us along.
“Relax, Jake’s grandparents said it was all taken care of. That we won’t end up in jail,” I answer.
“Hell of a way to end up in jail if we do, though.” Jax grins.
“Come on, grab the other side.” I point to the handle opposite me. Grabbing one side of the fire pit, I grunt, holding up my share of the fire its weight.
“Dude, I can’t believe your father hauled this thing down from Georgia, much less kept it all these years,” Damon whispers in awe, walking beside us with Jax’s guitar case strapped on his back, having placed the wood inside the fire pit.
“Yeah, that’s why they drove down instead of flying. He wanted us to get together just like when we were kids.”
“Watch your step,” Jax grunts as he stumbles, trying to stay on the walking path and not step on any graves.
The night is dark with only the stars and a couple of lights to illuminate the way to Jake’s grave. Call us crazy, but we just “broke” into the cemetery to have this last moment with our friend. Earlier was everyone’s goodbye, but now, it’s our time.
We arrive and arrange the pit next to Jake, light the fire, and then settle ourselves in our chairs. I grab one dip can, open it, and sprinkle some over Jake’s grave. Then I place it on top of the freshly covered ground. Another can is opened. I grab a pinch and pack it in my mouth, snug against my lower gums and lips. Then I pass it around.
Down the circle it goes, and all but Jax take part. Instead, he strums the strings of his guitar, warming up.
Minutes later, Jax’s low, husky, melodic voice sounds in song. The music surrounds me, and I lean back in my chair. Wetness mars my cheeks as I look up at the sky. Not caring, I let those tears fall.
These tears are for me. For my brothers. For Rylee and Faith. And for Jake.
“Remember the day we got in trouble?” Duke whispers, breaking the silence.
“Which time?” Damon chuckles because there wasn’t a day in which we were together that we didn’t get into one scrape or another.
I laugh and sit up. “My mother is always going on about us ‘little hellions,’ and how alone, we are perfect, fine, upstanding citizens, but together we raise hell wherever we go.”
“I’m talking about that time we were sent to the principal’s office—” Duke says with a grin.
“Again,” Damon interrupts him, “which time? I visited the principal’s office more times at Benning when we were together than the rest of my school years.”
“We were little troublemaker shits, weren’t we?” I chuckle.
“Hey!” Jax says, affronted. “Those were always you and Jake.” He gives me a chin-up. “We were just along for the ride, and, God, it was one hell of a ride.”
“But”—Duke raises a finger—“we never started a fight. We only finished it.”
“And that’s why, my friends,” I point out, “we never got in trouble at home.”
We pop open our cans, look each other in the eye, and raise our beers.
“It’s like spit shaking,” Duke informs us, grinning. “Or our blood oath.”
“No matter where we go, we’ll always have that duty station, this friendship, and each other,” I solemnly repeat Jake’s long ago words. “We’re more than friends,” I repeat my words from that fateful night.
“We’re brothers.” Together in a loud, clear, and promising voice we swear loyalty to each other once more.
“And we’re the Men of Phoenix because that’s Jake’s dream, and we will continue it,” I add. “To Jake.” My voice is thick with emotion.
“To Jake and our dream,” we say in unison.
Then, we drink a beer for our brother.
Whatever life may bring, we will always have that dream. That is the truth and our promise to each other.
But as I lean back in my chair and look up at the sky, I can’t help but feel anger, hurt, and frustration for being left behind.
Because what the hell am I supposed to do without the one person in my life who knew me almost better than myself?
What the hell am I supposed to do for the rest of my life in this lonely thing I call life?