A Casualty of War: My True Journey from Heartbreak to Hope

By Hannah Cook

The scene is often romanticized: the emotional, happy reunion of loved ones embracing their beloved soldier, returned home from his time on the battlefield, relieved to have him safely home.

But what if he doesnt come home?

What if he makes the decision, while deployed, that he no longer wishes to be reunited with the family he left behind? This is one such story of many too often repeated, one of a faithful wife, abandoned by her soldier, left to fend for herself and pick up the tattered pieces of what remains of her life, without an understanding of what became of the man she once knew and loved. War has many consequences, not only for the people who enlist to fight it, but for the people who are left behind and whose lives are forever changed as a result.

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: Aug 27, 2015
• ISBN: 9781512708585

Hannah Cook

Hannah Cook is a first-time author who currently resides in Montana with her beloved bulldog. She enjoys adventuring in the mountains during her free time, and is an avid reader who also loves to run and swim and surf and cook. Watching sports is a favorite pastime, along with traveling, and whenever possible she spends time with family and friends around the country. She continues to pursue God in all areas of life, actively engaged in church and small group as well as being daily in the Word.

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Copyright © 2015 Hannah Cook.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

WestBow Press

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Scripture taken from the Holy Bible, NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984 by Biblica, Inc. All rights reserved worldwide. Used by permission. NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION® and NIV® are registered trademarks of Biblica, Inc. Use of either trademark for the offering of goods or services requires the prior written consent of Biblica US, Inc.

Scripture quotations taken from the Holy Bible, New Living Translation, Copyright © 1996, 2004. Used by permission of Tyndale House Publishers, Inc., Wheaton, Illinois 60189. All rights reserved.

ISBN: 978-1-5127-0859-2 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5127-0860-8 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-5127-0858-5 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2015913427

WestBow Press rev. date: 11/10/2015

CONTENTS

Introduction

Chapter 1 My Story Begins

Chapter 2 And So It Begins…

Chapter 3 Moving In

Chapter 4 The Wedding

Chapter 5 Our One and Only Year

Chapter 6 Deployment

Chapter 7 The Last Days…

Chapter 8 The Long Awaited Return Home

Chapter 9 The Lesson

Chapter 10 The Last Word

This book is

dedicated first and foremost to my family, without whom I would be lost. You remain God’s greatest gift.

To my friends, some old some new, who continue to offer counsel and comfort at the exact moment it is required; my prayer is that I might do the same for you.

And to the broken-hearted souls seeking comfort, solace and safety in numbers, I pray you find some of that here in the pages of my story.

Introduction

Let me begin by saying this is not the story I wanted to write.

I had long thought of writing my story, the story of a young girl that never thought much of herself and whom love always eluded, yet who grew up strong, confident, and blessed with an amazing love story. That was the story I wanted to write, one that would encourage young girls or even not-so-young girls to just love life right where they are, love yourself, adventure in life, and believe that in God’s timing the right man will come along. Love will find you, but you first have to love God, trust Him, learn to love yourself and let go of your worry. That was the story I wanted to write. This is not that story.

I am still shocked over what has happened. It doesn’t seem possible that I would have let this happen to me. Because didn’t I let it happen? I let him in. I knew better. I thought it might be best if I just walked away from him, told him as much right from the very beginning. But somehow he slipped through the cracks, found the weakness in my defenses, crawled through the barbed wire I had set up, scaled the brick wall and made his way into my protected, sacred heart. And now, because of that decision, barely five short years later, I am suffering at his hands the worst heartbreak anyone has ever felt.

It must be. No one else’s story is quite like mine. No one else I know has felt the despair of years of loneliness, has watched everyone around them pair up and ride off into the sunset, had given up all hope entirely of ever finding anyone to love. Right? I am the only one to go through this, like this, to suffer this agony at the hands of someone they love. And in order to heal, in order to understand, in order to survive, I am going to document it. Let it out. To write about the hurts, the pain, the disbelief, so that I might then be able to let it all go. Trace my way through all of the steps that led me to this place so that I will never ever EVER again let this happen.

It is far too dangerous to fall in love. It simply hurts too much.

Chapter 1

My Story Begins

I can say nothing negative whatsoever about my beginnings. Mine was the perfect childhood. I had two loving parents, a dirt-road locale, lots of family around including Grandparents, Aunts, Uncles, Cousins, a bike to ride, food aplenty…there was love and fun and attention to spare. I loved life, in its beginning, and played house with my two sisters or let my imagination run wild with what amazing adventure life might bring me. I let my fantasies run wild, as most children do, and on any given day could be one of a thousand different things when I grew up: a firefighter, a teacher, a fighter pilot, a banker. Having a family, getting married and having children at some point down the line, was a given. It was natural progression, and I was certain of it.

While my childhood was utterly idyllic, I suffered a setback during my developing adolescent years, which meant that I had a very different high school experience than most. In my grade school years, I had little boyfriends here and there, lots of crushes, the usual start to experiencing romantic love. Lots of I like you, do you like me, check yes or no notes, boyfriends that lasted for a week or less, holding hands in the backseat of the bus on the five minute ride to school the most physical those relationships ever got. I wasn’t allowed to date until I turned sixteen, and any boyfriend I had before that was in name only and short-lived for fear of my parents finding out. When my sixteenth birthday finally rolled around, nothing really changed for me. While my peers were going out on dates and falling into first love, I was sitting at home with mom and dad, watching Friday night television, lamenting life, passing the years away as quickly as I could. When I was fourteen we moved away from my very small hometown, three states and a billion miles away from everything I had ever known and loved. Somewhere during the trip south, I lost all sense of who I was, any self-esteem I might have developed up to that point, and my ability to be social in any capacity. I was safest at home with mom and dad, and although I did have some close friends, I was not a part of the teen social experience. Not that I didn’t go on a few dates or get asked out, I did. But never by anyone that I was interested in. The story would go like this:

Phone call from random disliked boy: Hey, what are you doing Friday night?

Me: Working. (Thank God, excuse!).

Random boy: Well what time do you get off?

Me:(Uh oh.) 7.

Boy: Well I thought maybe you would like to go to a movie with me?

Me: Uh……well……I guess so. (Hang up phone, roll eyes, stomp into bedroom and flop onto bed in frustration, sadness, rage.)

I was never asked out by anyone I actually wanted to date, which makes dating miserable. It was not a fun social experience, it was a stress-filled night of discomfort and aggravation where I did everything I knew to do to be cordial without giving even the slightest hint that I was interested in anything more than friendship and secretly imagined what it would be like to be on this same date with a boy I actually liked. I was always scared to death to hurt anyone’s feelings, so I didn’t know how to say no thank you to a date request. Instead I would go, against my best judgment, and be miserable the whole time. Not that the phone rang very often, I can probably count on one hand the number of boys that asked me out during high school. I just wasn’t attractive to the boys that I wanted to be attractive to. I grew up in the land of jeans and sweatshirts, so moving to the land of the southern belle destroyed my self-esteem. These girls dressed up to go to school, for no good reason! They had perfectly coiffed hair, wardrobes that cost thousands, and fancy handbags that matched their shoes. I can still remember being teased because I always wore white socks, no matter what color the rest of my outfit was, and hard as I tried, I could never get my jeans French-rolled like the rest of the girls could. I. Was. Not. Cool. Though I tried, and really wanted to go, I never went to prom. Any other dances I went to I would dance every single dance until the slow songs came on, at which point I would slink to the wall and wait for the torment to end. During my high school years, I was largely, for all intents and purposes, invisible. If I liked a boy, there was a very good chance that he didn’t even know I was alive.

There was of course that one boy, THE boy, the one that captured my heart more so than any other. He was the ideal: handsome, God-fearing, athletic, good family…and way way way out of my league. I knew I stood no chance, but I didn’t miss any opportunity I had to be near him or talk to him. It was all pointless, as he told me more than once that we were friends and friends only. There were other crushes, I noticed other boys, but if he had shown even the slightest interest in me, well…I would have sold my little sister to be with him. I still remember finding out during my college years that he was engaged to be married. I mourned the loss of that dream for a long time, because for many long years I held out hope that maybe I still had a chance. Regardless, when high school ended, I hadn’t yet found my first love, and didn’t have the first clue about dating or love or how to attract a boy.

By the time I got to college I was so socially behind the rest of my peers I didn’t even know where to begin. I did not have cute clothes, I did not have a pretty face, I did not know how to relate to boys in any way shape or form. I was just completely uncomfortable in my own skin. I see pictures from that time period and I feel sorry for myself. I wish so much I could go back in time and give myself a hug, tell myself that it’s going to be okay (but, really, it’s not ok if I’m writing this story?). I went to college for four years, and had friends, certainly, but I wasn’t a party girl, wasn’t in a sorority, didn’t get out much. I played flag football with girls in my dorm, I went to every home basketball and football game, but my college experience was extremely tame compared to most. My exciting Friday nights meant hanging out at the Baptist Student Union coffee house where someone would play music and we would all sit around talking and drinking hot beverages. I used to hang out at the library when the basketball team was studying hoping to catch the eye of one of my crushes. I didn’t, but all that time spent at the library did earn some good grades that semester. One of my crushes, a friend of a friend, couldn’t remember my name from one meeting to the next despite my purposeful attempts to engage him in conversation every time I saw him. That’s how much of an impression I made on him, he couldn’t even remember my name. I have been the awkward silent party at the lunch table at work in my adult years, when the girls start talking about the walk of shame that every college girl should have participated in, where you wake up having slept with someone you barely know and find yourself in a strange bedroom then have to gather your clothes and walk yourself home. I don’t have any of those experiences. I didn’t go to parties and get drunk and sleep with someone I didn’t know. I don’t regret that, but it makes you feel somewhat lame when it seems so expected by everyone around you. The college years passed, still no relationship.

After college things were much the same. I still suffered self-esteem issues, never thinking that I was good enough or pretty or constantly, always, never-endingly comparing myself to someone else and not measuring up. I was forever too fat, my hair was always ugly, my clothes were mismatched and out of style because I could scarcely afford to purchase clothes on my tight budget. I just could never get it right. And I was scared of men by this time, to be perfectly honest. I should have had several relationships and heartbreaks by the age of twenty-five, right? That’s normal. So how do I suddenly try to start a relationship at this point in my life?

I think that’s where a change began. No longer did I think that for certain there was someone out there for me. No longer was I hoping for a big family with four or five kids. Maybe I was meant to be alone. I didn’t really want children after all, did I? Everyone else seemed to find their match in college, or at least that seemed to be the place with the most opportunity, but somehow I had been passed over. I wanted a relationship, just like everybody else did, what exactly was I supposed to have done differently?

I began taking chances in life. A lot of people settle down after college, beginning their career and family soon after, since that wasn’t to happen I took advantage of opportunities that presented themselves. I took a job at Disney World; a few years later moved to Chicago and for a few years flew the world as a Flight Attendant, and then moved to another state without a job just because. I wasn’t afraid to be alone, didn’t stop myself from living the life I wanted just because I was single, but I always felt that something was missing, and it was always hard to admit my complete lack of relationships to anyone as I met new people in new places. They wouldn’t understand, so I didn’t explain. It became my deep, dark, embarrassing secret. And it wasn’t as though I didn’t desire having a husband or falling in love during those times, I did. Very much. But I had convinced myself at some point that it probably wasn’t going to happen, best just to accept it and learn to live life alone.

There were a couple of close calls over the years, a few times when I thought I might finally be getting somewhere in the dating department. I spent one Christmas holiday working at a retail store while on break from college, and worked with a young man there who was my age and quite cute. He seemed interested as well, but nothing really happened during that time but some flirtation. I came home from school the following summer and ran in to him again, and he asked me out. A boy I was interested in asked me out and I said yes, what a novel concept! The problem was that our schedules conflicted, as he worked three jobs and I worked second shift at a hotel, so we could never find the time to do anything. Which was fine by me, sadly. I wanted to go out with him, truly, but I was just too scared. What would he think of me when he learned that I had never dated anyone before? I overthought things, tried to imagine telling him…I just couldn’t do it, and he stopped pursuing, and one more summer was spent alone.

There were misfires due to well-intentioned friends, which only served to increase my certainty that I was doomed to be alone. Friends once set me up on a blind date with a friend of their friend. It was to be a group outing, and I thought well, why not. When my date arrived, he was hung over and fresh out of jail due to a DUI. He didn’t say two words, but was still interested in getting fresh with me. Was this what my friends thought of me, that I must be desperate enough for a man’s attention that this would be okay with me? It wasn’t. Another time I was out to lunch with some co-workers and they managed to cajole our waiter, who was not unattractive but who was clearly after a large tip, to ask for my phone number. He did, and we made arrangements to go out on Friday night. He was a very attractive man, which led me to wonder, what does he want with me? He called the night of our date, at about ten o’clock, and when I met him at his apartment, I quickly learned what he was after. He had picked up some food for himself and rented a movie, turned off all the lights and went into his room to change clothes, with the door wide open so I could get a preview of coming attractions as the movie started. He proceeded to sit next to me on the couch, and without so much as a five-minute conversation, let me know he was ready to get physical. I’m not sure he even knew my name, but he must have figured that a girl as unattractive and desperate as I must have been would be a ready and willing participant to sleep with a guy as good looking as he was, right? I promptly rolled my eyes and exited his apartment, fairly certain that there were no more decent men left in the world, faith in humanity lost. I was going to be alone for the duration.

Despite the many miscues and with nothing little positive to lean on, I genuinely tried once, to start a relationship. I was about twenty-eight years old at the time. A man who was a friend of a friend came into my work, and in a brief thirty-second meeting decided he wanted to pursue me. He lived two hours away, which made it easier for me to keep him at arms length, but he soon began calling. I didn’t remember being impressed by him at all during our meeting, I didn’t think he was attractive and probably couldn’t have picked him out of a lineup, and I didn’t really care much for him on the phone either. But I tried…I pushed the issue because I wanted to like him and I wanted to be in a relationship. It seemed like it was time! So we talked and talked some more, and I liked having messages on my phone from him or having him call me…but I didn’t really like HIM. He had an interesting job, so I enjoyed listening him talk about that, but there just was no connection. I finally decided that we needed to spend some time together, face to face, to see if there was anything there. He certainly seemed more into this relationship idea than I did, and I didn’t want to lead him on any longer if it wasn’t going to happen.

So despite my reservations, I got in the car and drove to this man’s house and spent the day with him. And from the moment I saw him I knew there was just nothing there. I felt no connection, his personality did nothing for me, he wasn’t attractive to me. But still I tried, spent the day happy and light hearted and making him laugh and he got the wrong idea. I was reserved, and would have really appreciated it if he had just kept his hands to himself and let us just get to know each other a little bit, but no. He simply couldn’t wait to get his hands on me, and in my usual way of not wanting to hurt anyone’s feelings, I went along with what he wanted. To a point: he tried to get me to stay there with him, but I refused, and I made my exit after he gave me the worst most awful kisses ever. I drove home so disappointed, so down. I really wanted a relationship! Why was this so hard? I ended it as soon as I got home, and he was utterly confused. Not only was I upset because I didn’t like him, but added to that was guilt for feeling as though I had led him on and then hurt him, which wasn’t deliberate by any means. I didn’t think I was attracted to him physically, but maybe taking the time to get to know him would change that? I wanted to give it a chance, but instead I just ended up hurting him and more confused and frustrated than ever. It was so disheartening. I couldn’t understand, this is what normal people do, right?! Why could it never happen for me??? I just didn’t get it. At all.

Then there was the Todd incident. I was at work at my retail job one Christmas season, maybe even Christmas Eve?, and looked up to find a very attractive police officer talking to one of my employees. And I knew him, I knew that I knew him, but I couldn’t place him. He was looking at me with the same confusion, how did he know me? So we talked for a bit and figured out the connection, he had once worked for this company as well, at a different store, and we had been co-workers for a time. Nothing ever sparked back in the day, but it sure did now. My heart skipped a beat or two, apparently his did as well, but nothing came of it. A few months later, I moved into my new apartment and who should live there but that very same Todd. And I just knew then: this was it. I was going to be in a relationship. It was time, God had put us in the same place like this, we knew each other a bit already, we were attracted to each other…yes! Finally!

He had given me his number when I ran into him in the apartment complex, told me if I ever needed anything to give him a call. I didn’t feel any need to rush things; I would see him around the apartments, right? So I waited. Until one day, several months after I discovered him living there, his truck and police car were gone…he had moved out. I had never bumped into him again, never again seen him just in passing, hadn’t had another chance to talk to him in the many months we’d lived 500 yards away from each other. But rather than let it go, I got brave. This was meant to be, but I needed to help it along a bit. I called him. I was so scared, my voice was shaking, but I did it! And he answered the phone and stated that he was on a drug bust at the moment, could he call me back? Of course I said that he could, and he actually did! He called me the next day while I was at work, left me a message. Then I tried to call him, left a voicemail. It went back and forth for a few days but again, no rush, no worry. The line of communication had been opened, let’s just take this slow. This was meant to be, it would be.

That was confirmed when, a week after the phone calls, he showed up at my store. We walked and talked through the store for an hour, he picked out some patio furniture, I helped him take it to his car, and I nearly floated back into the store. I was puzzled as to why he didn’t ask me out, but again, why worry? This was the one, it was going to be okay. I was still scared, mind you, but we knew each other from before, I felt more comfortable with him than with just a stranger. And he looked so good in his uniform, I felt certain I could overcome my fear. The next day at work, he came into the store again. Looking for more furniture, or so he said. In my head and heart, he was there to see me. Again, we spent about forty-five minutes walking through the store and talking, flirtatious, me just certain that at the end of this transaction he was going to ask me out. But again, disappointment and confusion: he drove away without asking. Maybe he was nervous like I was? He was a little bit shy…no matter. No rush.

I waited to hear from him through the following weekend and when I didn’t, I again got brave and called him one more time. Not sure what I said, but I had to leave a voicemail, and I was proud of myself for taking that chance. For putting myself out there like that. It was no easy thing, but I did it.

So imagine my humiliation when the next day at work my co-worker told me that she had talked to Todd, and he was already dating someone. He had no need of me, he already had a woman in his life. I was, once again, crushed. I felt like a complete fool, and my bravery had amounted to nothing.

I began then really hardening my heart. Not to say that I didn’t notice or like men, I did. Very much! I noticed many that never noticed me back. Or that weren’t available. Or that were professional baseball players that posed no real threat to me but sure were nice to look at. Occasionally someone would show a slight interest, and I would react almost with anger. I technically wanted a relationship, I just didn’t know how to go through the steps to get one and had been so repeatedly rejected by this point, I had no hope. People would try to set me up or point me towards this single guy or that single guy and I just wouldn’t even think of it. My parents over and over again tried to get me to sign up for an online dating site, which I explored to be honest, but I couldn’t do it. It felt like I was listing myself up for sale, and it felt very unsafe to me. Unnatural. And how could I trust anybody else’s profile? You could say anything about yourself, how would anyone know for sure? My thought at this point in my life, in my early thirties, was that if I were to meet a man and start a relationship, it was going to have to be in a neutral environment. Like a work environment, where we had to be around each other, no pressure, and got to know each other that way. Dating just wasn’t something I wanted or knew how to do. I was used to being on my own, it was a way of life I was comfortable with, but it was lonely. Because of that loneliness, I decided to give up adventure seeking on my own, to move back home to be near my family, to be close to people that loved me. I left a good job with good pay and a brand new townhome to move back in with my parents. At the age of thirty-three. Not the proudest moment in my life.

For most of my life, I have never considered myself attractive, but as I got older I started to understand who I was and, more importantly, who I wasn’t. I was not a size two supermodel that was going to turn heads when I walked in to a room. I was, however, an easygoing girl with a great sense of humor and a compassionate heart that everyone seemed to like. I wasn’t sophisticated, with perfectly designed hair and manicured nails, but I didn’t mind getting dirty while running around in the yard, or tossing a ball with my niece or nephew and was generally the first one outside to play when snow would fall. I was not fashionable, highly intellectual, or particularly delicate, but I could cook, take care of myself quite efficiently, and love nothing more than to make the people in my life happy. I live to please, which is both a wonderful blessing and a tremendous curse. I could have cared less if most men thought me attractive; sexy was not something I shot for. In fact, I hated being ogled by men, found it offensive. Even now, when someone tells me how pretty I am, it matters not to me. While I’m not terribly pretty by the world’s standards, I have learned to love myself over the years. I found my value, not in being a certain size or wearing a certain name brand, but in how I made people feel. The one area I felt completely inadequate and a complete failure at, was romantic love.

I was also quite horrible about making plans for myself and setting goals, and something I did to help me with that was to set up a bulletin board so that I could visualize those things I wanted to make happen in my life. Pictures of places I wanted to travel, of the kind of home I wanted to live in, descriptions of the type of job I would like to have, all tacked up on this board as visual reminders. Along with one little post-it note, on which I had listed the type of man I wanted to marry. Because as desolate as I felt about actually finding someone, I would never find him if I didn’t know who he was, right? I still have that post-it note, and this is how I describe the man of my dreams: funny, humble, Christian, smart, strong, athletic, family-oriented, handsome, loving, decisive.

After moving home, I went on an all-out hunt for a job outside of retail, determined to change my career course for good. God, it seems, had other plans. Despite several interviews and high hopes, there was only one legitimate job offer made to me. It crushed me, I was going to be stuck in retail once again, and at a severe pay cut from the job I had just left. The real pain of having to take this job, however, would come much later, as this job was the place that I met him. The man that would finally break down the walls, shortly before breaking my heart, and that confuses me to no end. Why? God could have left well enough alone, given me one of the other jobs I had interviewed for and so desperately wanted, and this man already had a job he could have kept…but no. We were brought together in the same time in the same place, setting us up for what in the end turned out to be my great heartbreak, and I have a hard time with God over that one. Why did He bring us together? In the beginning, I saw it as a sign that God had meant for us to be together. Now, I don’t have an answer for it. I don’t know why God brought us together. And after going through the story again, re-living every moment, I’m not sure I ever will.

Chapter 2

And So It Begins…

I remember the moment I met him. Not really met him, actually, more like acknowledged his existence. It was orientation day at my new job at a big box home improvement retail store, and I was utterly miserable. I had just moved back home, and had desperately tried to find a job that was not in retail so that I might break the cycle I had been in for nearly ten years. And here I was again, after failing to land several jobs I had interviewed for. I came into the room we were to orient in, and the tables closest to the back were taken, so I settled with the next closest to the rear of the room. He sat at the first table, with his back to me, wearing his blue Columbia jacket, and I didn’t care one iota about him. He was a young kid, and I was a miserable loser nearing middle age, our worlds were not compatible or relevant to each other. Little did I know.

The instructor had us go around the room, told us to introduce ourselves, tell what brought us here, where we had worked before, the usual junk. She asked, who wants to go first, and he stood up, the young kid at the front. The instructor said you don’t have to stand up, you can stay seated and he said, that’s ok ma’am, I’ll stand. And I just remember thinking that was impressive. He suddenly didn’t seem so young anymore.

I don’t remember much more about that first week, except that I was utterly miserable and whenever we had to have little break out groups to play this game or do this activity, I was full of sarcasm and bitterness. I was not a happy person at that moment in my life, things seemed so very bleak and hopeless. Here I was suffering yet another career setback, what was the point of moving home only to end up in a worse job than the one I left behind? Thirty-three and living with my parents, broke…despairing. Nevertheless there was a lot of laughter that week, despite having to go through boring computer programs and reading dull manuals, because even in my misery, I won’t miss an opportunity to be sarcastic or make people laugh.

One afternoon we were all training, which consisted of scraping old price tags off beams and trying to get all of