I didn’t even realize I was crying until I felt a tear drop onto my arm. I reached up and wiped at my dampened face.
Macy cleared her throat, trying to gain her composure. “Okay, Willa. Do you have a pen and paper ready?”
I quickly pulled open a drawer in my kitchen and took out a pad of paper. I searched for a pen or pencil, but the only thing I could find was a crayon, so I used it.
“The first thing you need to do is find a support group close to you. Not only for Aiden, but for you as well.”
“Me?” I asked in a stunned voice.
“Yes. You. Willa, the stress that PTSD puts on the families of those who suffer from it is sometimes just as heavy as the PTSD itself. It’s imperative that you also have someone there to support you. But the main thing for you right now is to be there for him. Encourage him to try and get help.”
I drew in a shaking breath. “Where do I find this help?”
“Here’s a website that will get you started in the right direction: www.ptsd.va.gov. Another one is www.garysinisefoundation.org. Also, write down this number. It’s the hotline for Veterans in Crisis. 1-800-273-8255. Did you get that?”
I quickly wrote it all down and then stared at the paper. Macy said my name, and I asked, “I’m sorry, what did you say?”
“Did you get the number down? It’s important that you have that number handy.” After I read the number back to her, she replied, “Good. You never know if you or someone you know will need it.”
My heart was pounding so hard it felt as if it was going to beat out of my chest. I also felt such heartache for this woman on the other line. She had been through so much, and here she was being so strong and supportive for me. Someone she didn’t even know. She knew Aiden, though, and that meant something to me.
“Willa?” Macy asked, her voice almost a whisper.
“Yes?”
“The biggest hurdle is getting him to realize he needs help. These guys have been trained to show nothing. To talk about nothing. To deal with it all on their own. It’s not going to be easy for you, but I know you can do it.”
I quickly wiped a tear away. “How do you know that? You don’t even know me.”
Macy waited the beat of a butterfly’s wing before she said, “I know because you had the courage to call me. To reach out and ask for help. I’m here if you ever need to talk. Find a support group for yourself, Willa. Promise me you will.”
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I replied in a raspy voice, “I promise I will.”
Before we said our goodbyes, we exchanged emails so that Macy could send me more information. The moment I hung up, I logged into my computer and found a support group near me for loved ones of veterans suffering with PTSD. I was shocked to see that there was one in the valley, only twenty minutes away.
By the time I was off the phone with them, I was emotionally exhausted. It was right about then that Ben woke up from his afternoon nap.
Part of me wanted to stay on the sofa in a ball, crying. How was this fair? How was it that a man could give so much of his life for his country, for total strangers, only to come back so broken and alone? Why hadn’t the military seen fit to make sure he was emotionally okay before they’d discharged him? Had they asked him if he was okay, and had Aiden simply lied? Told them he was fine? Surely with all the information out there, they had to know he wasn’t okay.
Maybe they did know, and it was easier to simply ignore it.
A torrent of anger washed over me, and I made a vow that I would stop at nothing to get Aiden to open up to me. To trust me.
After changing Ben, I sat with him in the rocking chair near the large picture window that overlooked the oak tree in the front yard. It was almost as if my sweet boy picked up on my mood, because he rested his head on my chest and moved his hand slowly over my back as we both stared out over the disappearing blanket of snow.
“It’s probably going to be gone by tomorrow, little man,” I said.
Ben pushed off my chest and looked outside, then down at his stuffed bear. When he reached for it, I set him on the floor next to it.
I stared at Ben for the longest time as a million and one things raced through my mind. Would Aiden even listen to me if I tried to talk to him? Was I strong enough to help him? Could I take this on as well as the demands of everything else in my life? We were launching a new online store for the orchard, and so much had to be done.