Everyone knows that should be me standing next to her. She never forgave me for joining the service, that's not why I got the wedding invitation though; her mother always liked my family and still used this old address. I am the only one left of course and that is why I got this wedding invitation.
Misses Jason Flaniggan. Such a waste of her beautiful name... He was so fucking proud of his Irish heritage, stupid ginger, at least a third of his clothes were always green, except in the invitation photograph, A handsome black suit, but he still had a green tie. He was always the first to let you know he was Irish, as if you couldn't tell by looking at him, or his thirty-five siblings, then there was the accent he claimed came from his visits back to Ireland...
Jason Partridge Flaniggan was a Canadian. That is why I hated him; not because he stole my girl, or my life, or that he was just a regular asshole; no, Because he would never tell you he was born in Canada to a regular Christian family and only became Irish-Catholic after his father remarried since his mother died from having too many kids! Mr. Flaniggan's second wife was a devout Irish-Catholic, that's why the family is so fucked up. Four years ago I received a letter from Mrs. Kubric, the mother of my ex-fiance. The Kubric family loved my family, Mrs. Kubric was a good friend of my mother, and knew most of the Van Ericsson's very well. Although in the years just before and during my time in the service the two families grew apart; and it didn't help that while I was away, my family was busy dying or in the hospital waiting for my return so they could die. And a majority of the deaths were the type that could be considered, under the right circumstances, murder.
Everyone knows that should be me standing next to her, but everyone thinks I died in Germany. I was stationed in Germany thanks to my familiarity with the language; I'm very good with most Slavic and Germanic languages. My fiance at the time, Ms. Kubric, was very disappointed in my choice to join the service, but at the time I had no job, little education, and nothing saved that would help us start a family. She never forgave me for leaving her, although I always promised her I would be back. I thought she trusted me. It was halfway through my fourth year of deployment when the wreck happened, I was riding back from an evening downtown with some buddies, our driver had one too many to drink and the vehicle ended three of our lives at the scene. By the time the paramedics got to us I was the only one they could resuscitate. Afterward I spent eight months in a coma and the military just forgot about me.
Misses Jason Flaniggan. Such a waste of her beautiful name... He was so fucking proud of his Irish heritage, stupid ginger, at least a third of his clothes were always green, except in the invitation photograph, A handsome black suit, but he still had a green tie. He was always the first to let you know he was Irish, as if you couldn't tell by looking at him, or his thirty-five siblings, then there was the accent he claimed came from his visits back to Ireland...
Jason Partridge Flaniggan was a Canadian. That is why I hated him; not because he stole my girl, or my life, or that he was just a regular asshole; no, Because he would never tell you he was born in Canada to a regular Christian family and only became Irish-Catholic after his father remarried since his mother died from having too many kids! Mr. Flaniggan's second wife was a devout Irish-Catholic, that's why the family is so fucked up. Four years ago I received a letter from Mrs. Kubric, the mother of my ex-fiance. The Kubric family loved my family, Mrs. Kubric was a good friend of my mother, and knew most of the Van Ericsson's very well. Although in the years just before and during my time in the service the two families grew apart; and it didn't help that while I was away, my family was busy dying or in the hospital waiting for my return so they could die. And a majority of the deaths were the type that could be considered, under the right circumstances, murder.
Everyone knows that should be me standing next to her, but everyone thinks I died in Germany. I was stationed in Germany thanks to my familiarity with the language; I'm very good with most Slavic and Germanic languages. My fiance at the time, Ms. Kubric, was very disappointed in my choice to join the service, but at the time I had no job, little education, and nothing saved that would help us start a family. She never forgave me for leaving her, although I always promised her I would be back. I thought she trusted me. It was halfway through my fourth year of deployment when the wreck happened, I was riding back from an evening downtown with some buddies, our driver had one too many to drink and the vehicle ended three of our lives at the scene. By the time the paramedics got to us I was the only one they could resuscitate. Afterward I spent eight months in a coma and the military just forgot about me.
My official record states that I was killed in an accident. I spent a few months in eastern Europe recovering before I made it back into the states, and when I finally found my girl it was too late. She didn't want anything to do with me, even after all she knew or didn't know about what I had been through, she was through. A few months later I got the wedding invitation; everyone knows that should be me standing next to her, but everyone also knows I died in Germany. I did not go to the wedding, but I keep this invitation in my wallet as a reminder of the American Dream.
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