I have often been thanked for what I do as a spouse of a service member. It makes me feel awkward every time because, well, I’m not the one actually doing the service and because I’m not unique. There are thousands of other spouses that came before me, and will be living this life after we are finished.
Some times family members and friends will say how proud they are of me, of all I deal with, and get through “on my own.” This also makes me feel awkward because, again, I am not unique.
But yesterday. Yesterday was one of those very few days in my “married to the military” life that I can look back on and say “Hell freaking yes, I’m a strong woman!” and stand in awe of myself.
This post isn’t about patting myself on the back. It’s really more about highlighting what so many of us spouses do in the moment and almost forget to say “Hey, you’re doing a great job, keep it up.” to ourselves!
I woke up yesterday, got dressed “nicely” (as in, didn’t wear yoga pants and an old college t-shirt), packed up my school bag and headed to class. Sat through 2.5 hours of College Algebra desperately trying to stay focused on what we were learning versus where I wanted to be: back home eating one last breakfast with him and T.
When I arrived back home he told me his flight had been delayed. Horray! And, ugh. More time together. More time to stare at each other and walk around the house in circles awkwardly because, well, do we try to squeeze in play at the park? Do we go to lunch? Do we just stay here? What more can we say that hasn’t been said?
Finally it’s time to head to the airport. The drive was ridiculously faster than normal and now he’s got a lot of time to wait. Well, do we park? No, you want us to just drop you off…okay…well, crap. Am I ready for this? Is T ready for this? Is he ready for this? Are you ever ready for this??
No, nothing prepares you. It doesn’t matter that for a little while longer we can call whenever we want or “Skype” or whatever. THIS is the moment when that physical connection ends. And nothing prepares you. Not even if you’ve done it three times before…this time is new.
And it sucks. All over again. Only this time there’s this poor kid who just wants to go to the water fountain inside the air port and doesn’t understand why you’re trying to cut this whole “goodbye, see you later” thing as short as possible because you’re about to freaking lose it and you can see he’s about to lose it and you swore you’d never lose it in front of him and “AHHHHHHHHH” I just want to scream! One more hug, one more kiss, no, really one more hug and kiss….okay, I dare you Mr. Airport security TSA dude to come tell me to move my car, dare you.
But I have to. I have to put T back in his seat, I have to put the car in drive and drive away. It feels like I’m physically ripping my heart in two. I’m not being dramatic and for those of you who have experienced this, you know I’m not.
Why? Why does it feel this way? Well, probably because of that nagging, horrible thought in the back of both of your heads. The reality you know exists but don’t want to say, or even think about…but as I drove home from the airport it was hard not think of that reality: what if that was the last hug and kiss, touch, fingers linked? What if that was it?
Well that’s why I put something other than yoga pants on. Because he knows I know he knows that’s what I live in 95% of the time, but can you imagine if that was the last physical image he had of me? Comic relief, anyone?
Truth is, sure, I know I “signed up” for days like this when I chose to start dating him. That doesn’t mean it still doesn’t suck and isn’t hard! It doesn’t mean I’m not allowed to start crying because I reread that encouragement card he left me, or looked at those two new mugs he bought me, or, well, saw there were still deli meats in the fridge for his sandwiches… yes, deli meat got the water works rolling. How about the conversations I know I’m going to have over and over again with T when he starts asking when Daddy is coming to visit again. I can’t wait for those…not. Thankfully he’s such a sweetheart that I know I’ll get a hug and kiss and snuggle if he sees I’m sad…but I don’t want to be sad in front of him, too much. I want him to know I’m strong and here for him to lean on…
And so we’re back to me patting myself on the back. Because in the 10 glorious days our little family was together again, I went to EVERY scheduled class, did EVERY homework assignment, and while my grades may have faltered ever so slightly, I still stayed committed to what has us living apart for nearly three extra months than necessary before he deploys and Lord knows how many after he returns.
I got up this morning, put on my oldest pair of yoga pants and an old favorite college shirt, packed up T’s overnight bag, got him to my parents’ made it to class, came home, changed, took care of finalizing T’s enrollment into the school he’ll be attending this fall, went grocery shopping, came back changed, grabbed my chemistry books and lap top, took groceries to my parents’ (for T), ate dinner with them and made it to class. And you know what? When I step outside of myself and look at the last 48 hours, you know what I see? I see someone I hardly recognize. Because in the moment I feel like I can hardly go on without curling up in a ball and just letting myself cry it out, but I don’t, because I can’t. And you know what? I think that makes me pretty darn awesome.
And on that note, I’m going to go feed the Boo, who clearly can’t go another minute without dinner, finish my math homework, study for the test I have tomorrow, and watch Les Miserables so I can have a good cry. Because I freaking deserve it.
A Golden Day of Peace 