Epilogue

My first writing assignment on the day I started work on my Master’s degree in Creative Writing was to “write why I write.” That day was May 3, 2010. I only lasted at the endeavor of earning a Master’s for ten stressful days.

I’m not what I used to be. And I don’t want to be.

Tonight, or rather in this very early morning of July 5, 2011, I’m sharing my manuscript and memoir with those left here, with those I love with everything in me.

A few have left me since the work first started: Mom, Isaac, Sarah, and now even Bonray and Sadie.

And there’s the recent addition of Rhett, who makes me crazy and makes me laugh.

Kind of reminds me of Aaron in a way. I don’t expect people to understand that. But we take what we can get in the form of love and laughter.

But back to that writing assignment. I submitted what is below.

I write because I love Him, him and them. I write because I can and my cans are not many. If I could sing, I would. I can still dance, but my dancing partners have gone Home or practice the same sober life I now practice, and often I wonder if music will ever be as sweet. Then there are those short moments I find that music is sweeter because of the loss.

No, I’m not trying to be poetic here. If only I were a poet, but I’m not. I am fifty-five years old and six years ago on this very day, I buried my second and last child. I don’t finish that last sentence to ask for sympathy. I write it as a statement of fact as to why I am here. December 2003, I graduated from Texas Tech University with a BA in English, combined with a specialization in creative writing (fiction). On April 26, 2004, my son, Marine Lance Corporal Aaron C. Austin was KIA in Fallujah, Iraq. It was his second trip. His actions that day earned him a posthumous Silver Star Medal. I’ll always be proud of him, and I’ll never quit missing him.

My writing has never stopped since that time, but the ability to read and concentrate diminished greatly. Deadlines are dreadful to me now. But I am here. I know there is so much to learn. I have a manuscript that I’ve worked on for several years. It may be the lone thing I leave this world and I want it to be right. I know there is a way to combine faith, loss, family and dysfunction. Nicholas Wolterstorff, Patricia Hampl, and C.S. Lewis have attracted me in these last years, but it is Mary Karr’s Lit that has pulled me be back into the status of student. A status I somewhat dread, but a status that I hope mentors my memoir into everything it can and should be.

A place of mourning.

Hope.

Humor.

*

And to the reader, I tell you this: No doubt, if I could go back and change things and/or circumstances in my life, I would. I hear many people say they wouldn’t change a thing, but I would: I’d change the times I’ve hurt others.

But when I read what’s written below, with this, I wouldn’t change a thing. What could I change and know that everything was as it should be?

One day, I’ll dance with Aaron again.

I promise you that.

Semper Fi!

*AUSTIN, AARON C. (KIA)

Citation:

The President of the United States takes pride in presenting the Silver Star Medal (Posthumously) to Aaron C. Austin, Lance Corporal, U.S. Marine Corps, for conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity in action against the enemy as Machine Gun Team Leader, Company E, Second Battalion, First Marines, Regimental Combat Team 1, FIRST Marine Division, I Marine Expeditionary Force, U.S. Marine Forces Central Command in support of Operation IRAQI FREEDOM II on 26 April 2004. At 1100 on 26 April, a numerically superior enemy force attacked Lance Corporal Austin's platoon from three different directions. In the first 15 minutes of the attack, the enemy fired dozens of rocket-propelled grenades, thousands of machine gun rounds, and then assaulted to within 20 meters of Lance Corporal Austin's position. While throwing grenades and spraying their positions with AK-47 fire, 16 of his fellow Marines on the rooftop position were wounded, some severely. After ensuring his wounded platoon members received medical treatment, he rallied the few remaining members of his platoon and rushed to the critical rooftop defensive position. Braving withering enemy machine gun and rocket-propelled grenade fire, he reached the rooftop and prepared to throw a hand grenade. As he moved into a position from which to throw his grenade, enemy machine gun fire struck Lance Corporal Austin multiple times in the chest. Undaunted by his injuries and with heroic effort, Lance Corporal Austin threw his grenade, which exploded amidst the enemy, halting their furious attack. By his bold leadership, wise judgment, and complete dedication to duty, Lance Corporal Austin reflected great credit upon himself and upheld the highest traditions of the Marine Corps and the United States Naval Service.