“Hello, my name is Jesse Jung. “

“Hello Jesse,” everyone echoed.

“I am here tonight because I want to share my story as well as my feelings. It all ended with my wife blown to pieces.”

She was posted aboard to another country to foster the ties of our country’s security and safety with that country. As usual, we had a face time during the night to bid each other goodnight. However, she did something unusual which I did not catch. Every time her gut feeling knows that she would be in danger, she would declare her love for me randomly.

“Babe,” and I prompted her to continue, which she did, “I love you. I really do.”

“I know you do”, I said, “why are you acting so weird about it?”

“Nothing,” she smiled, “I just want to let you know.”

The morning after, there was a bomb that when off during her exercise. She just so happened to be the there. The right place at the wrong time.

“She wasn’t even supposed to die on the trip! But she did! I... can’t, I’m sorry, is it okay if I take a break?” I turned to the facilitator.

“It’s fine. We’ll take 10.”

I rush to the bathroom. Closing the door behind me, I cannot help but break down. Tears running my face, I take my phone out. There she is, smiling so ever brightly, holding our 3-year-old son. Her smile was what made me fall in love with her, yet it is also making my cry. How ironic.

10 minutes passed with me crying and back into the group I go.

The chatting in the room slowly died off as everyone is settling down.

The facilitator starts off again, “Is everyone back? Okay, great. So Jesse would you like to continue or would you like others to go first?”

I am still unsteady hence I choose the latter.

A full hour passed by and it was back to me. The facilitator confirmed with me that if I was not ready I can do it the next session. I told him that It was fine and that I would like to continue.

“It was all over the news…”

That afternoon after the faithful incident, all local and foreign news outlet were reporting about the bombing. Two people were declared dead on the spot, while several others with seriously injured and couple of others had minor injuries.

I was at work, working a case when my superior called me into the room.

“Jesse, you are dismissed for the rest of the day as well as for the next 2 days. Go home and rest up.”

“Sir, I believed you have the wrong guy. I need no rest, I have an important case to solve.”

“No, you have to get home. Your case has been reallocated to Katie, send all the relevant information to her when you get back to your desk. This is an order. Dismissed.”

Not knowing the reason behind it, I just followed the order.

As I walked out of the office, I decided to complain to my wife about the ridiculousness of my boss, making me go home when it was only one in the afternoon.

I sat in my car, browsing twitter to let some steam off when I noticed the hashtag. Wondering what had happened was so serious that it was trending, I drove off deciding that getting my son off from school was a better choice.

“But all it did was to prolong the duration of which I know what happened.”

When I reached home, it was 3.30pm. While my son was entertaining himself with a train set, I finally get the time to click on the hashtag. Many were writing condolences to the victims’ family, nothing of substance. I decided to get onto google to search.

First news to pop up reads: [Breaking News] 2 dead and several injured during a joined security exercise

Curious, I clicked. Next thing I know, I was franticly trying to dial her phone. I had completely broken down. My son, not knowing anything, came over to comfort me.

I cried even more. He might no longer have a mother. Yet, I could not seem to break it to him. The future seems bleak without her.

“Daddy, don’t cry. Mummy will be laughing if she sees you crying like this,” my son’s failed attempt at comforting me. It served no purpose except to remind me of her.

“Daddy is really sad. Mummy will not laugh at me because,”, because she is gone, “because she knows I’m sad”

“Okie dokie daddy. I’m sorry for being rude.”

I stared at my son. His manners were taught by his mum. His eyes resembled her. I could not but help to feel sorry for both myself and my son. I gestured to him for a hug, which I was now reduced to a pathetic sob.

Later that afternoon, I received a call from my wife’s superior to which I immediately answered. Hoping for the best case scenario, I listened.

Which was proven to be otherwise.

Breaking down for the second time that day, I no longer had a vision of what do to without her. I took my son to his favourite fastfood restaurant, which he gleefully ate, I stared blankly.

After tugging my son into his bed and watching him slowly succumbed to dreamland, I walked into our study. That sofa was where we spent time waiting for each other to finish up work. The sofa was memories. It was were we spent half our collage hanging out together and did some naughty deeds. Unknowingly, I had walked towards it and sat down. Sobs turned into cries which turned violent.

I had to book a plane to the destination for me to do the recognition of the body. But with me crying so badly, I can no longer do that.

Dialling the first bro that I can, I told him to help me with the accommodation and plane tickets. Without fail, it was done within minutes with no questions asked.

That early morning, I flew over. My son was with my wife’s sister who had originally wanted to come along.

Going over to the location was a train wreck. I wanted it all to be a bad dream. However, when I reached, when I walked over to the acclaimed body of my wife, when I recognise that one tattoo that we thought was a good idea but turned out bad, when I dropped onto the floor crying and praying, it was all but a bad dream.

My love, my bestfriend, my one true love, my one and only girlfriend, my son’s mum, was there lying in 2 broken pieces. Just like my broken heart.

I flew back with my wife’s body. I had to arrange her funeral. I had to break the news to my son. I had to prepare everything for her. Without her by my side.

I took time off work. When that proved to be unsuccessful, I buried myself with work. I forgo my wellbeing, with the motive to leave her off my mind. Drank to forget every night after my son slept. My son was doing the same in school. He abused and bullied classmates and teachers. He was no longer my wife’s well-mannered son.

“And that is why I decided to change, staring from here. For me, for my son, for my love.”

The group fell into utter eerie silent. Some sobbed. But mostly, indifferent. I think.

“Thank you, Jesse. Your courage to take the first step is amazing. We can all hope to learn for you in that aspect. Well, that’s all for tonight, see you next week. If anyone what someone to talk to, drop by or text me. Thank you all for coming.”

I left that night with a smile on my face for the first time after 5 months. I rubbed and kissed my new ring, which the inside craved, ‘Stephanie. '01/08~28/09’. I hopped into my car and drove home, to my son who was acting up again with his babysitter.