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They say time heals all wounds.
They never mentioned the enormous scars those wounds would leave in it's place. On the inside of my lip there is a smudgy black tattoo that reads the word 'scarred'. It's the truth. Sometimes things in life can be so painful that regardless of how long it has been there will always be some sort of a mark on you reminding you of that pain. It will never be a visible mark, no. But something buried deep inside, on your heart or in your mind. Something only you can see and something that no one will understand. The day Jesse died, i think a little piece of me died as well. The second his heart stopped, an imaginary claw slashed across my heart forming the largest wound and inevitable scar yet. He was old enough to go to war. Old enough to die for his country, but not old enough to see his first born son. Not old enough to worry about Grey hair. Not old enough to comprehend that death was even an option. In the following days I had blamed myself. I should have been there and not him. He stood in the exact spot i would have been standing given, i had gone. We traded spots and in the end he traded his life for mine. His family sacrificed so that mine did not have to. His mother shed tears so that my mother could sleep easy. His children will eternally be unborn so that my daughter could have a mother. The scar on my heart will always sing his name. The angel that sacrificed so much. I will bear that pain forever for him, always remembering that the pain he endured was for me.

Learn more about this author, Jessica Dockrey.
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