When You Know

In where I discuss the feeling of waking every morning with a reason to fear you may be alone forever.

I don't think I will ever be able to forget what happened shortly before he was supposed to go. We had been with friends, drinking, and had just returned home to rest. Sure, Jaeger had a habit of making him angry, but nothing like this. I had been friends with him for nearly a lifetime and I had never seen him so much as tear up. Now he was crumpled on our floor, crying, sobbing, and yelling. The reality had finally set in. He had pushed it down and stayed so strong but in his state, it was too much. I tried to hold him, tried to kiss him, told him everything would be fine. For the first time I had to bite my lip and fight my tears for him. Just once I had to step up and accept the brunt of the pain. Right when the bottom fell out he bolted. I say back, and I shook with fear. As long as he was gone I had time to fall apart and then build myself back up and await his return. After we cuddled up and went to bed, it was as if it never happened.

There was a final hurrah BBQ the weekend before they all shipped out. As drunk as we may have been, and as light we may have made of it, we all dug in and went over the really hard shit. I made Mata promise to take good care of him because it was his first and he might be scared. Bernie reassured me that although they thought he would give up out of sheer pain of missing me, they would all take care of him. I made all the boys promise not to laugh if he ever got to the point of crying. If I hadn't been drinking I think I would have been a blubbering mess. Some of the best guys I have ever known did nothing but make me feel loved, supported, and comfortable letting him ship out with them. I would never have stopped holding my breath if I didn't have so much confidence in these men. They gave me a peace of mind I thought may have been unattainable. 

I spent all of my idle hours staring at him. I tried not to let him notice me because honestly, I was running out of excuses. I wanted to count his eyelashes, his freckles, the hairs on his head. I wanted to be sure of the exact shade of brown  his hair grew in. I ran my hands over his head and his cheeks so many times, I swear I could have carved them out of stone in my sleep. I spent my times trying to latch onto every detail of his appearance so hard that I would never be able to forget. Every piece of my was aware that these might be my last moments with him. I would wake in a fret-what did his heartbeat sound like? How rough were his hands? When was the last time I told him I loved him? I didn't think there was such a thing as being obsessive over these details in the last weeks. At very best I would be able to skype with him occasionally but no amount of pixels would recreate the strength and beauty I saw now. At worse case scenario I would only have these moments, these cuddles, these breaths to last me...well, however long it takes to die from a broken heart. If I could have stayed in bed with him all day, breathing in his scent and tracing the lines of his body, I swear I would have. 

That morning was so dark and cold, it seemed unreal. We packed the car and grabbed the camera, slow to get out the door. We sat in the gym and watched other families crying, praying, kissing. The bags and the men were lined up. The air was electric with anxiety and fear. I tucked away all of my pain for just a little longer. When they announced the final goodbyes I shed a few tears and then composed myself again. It was temporary, right? Just a 'see you later' and never a 'goodbye'. As they men went on the other side of the ropes, I saw her break. They had only just announced her pregnancy and now she was realizing what it meant. She was in a foreign country with no family, few friends, and had to face everything alone. I told her I would be there. I told her husband I would take her to her appointments and keep an eye on her and help her with whatever she needed. When the base deployed, we all sort of leaned on eachother a little more to make it through the days. The bus drove by, I went down the block to the apartment, and I lost it. I had never felt so empty in my life. How do you move on after you may have said your last goodbye to the love of your life? The tears lasted maybe an hour or two and then numbness slipped in and I was able to breathe. I almost went into a state of denial for a while.

Now this post isn't about how you can cope with your deployment or how a typical deployment goes or anything like that. I just felt the need to write about the worst days of your life when you wonder if you will ever see them again. I wanted to tell you about the heartache of seeing that fear in your husband's eyes. I wanted to explain how much the people he deploys with will bring you peace and strength. I had to get off my chest the fact that I have never had to face a worse moment in my life. 

I relied so heavily on the things I had memorized of his body. I rocked myself to sleep with a memory of his heartbeat. When it got too hard, I breathed in his scent and thought about the whirlpool of green in his eyes. I cuddled my pillow as if it would rise and fall to the pattern of his breathing. I loved the shit out of my dogs during that time. I cuddled them and cried on them whenever I had the chance. I poured all of my time and affection into them so I could fill the whole that grew larger every day. I went to the gym, I went swimming, i went to church. I tried to fill every waking hour of my life with something-anything. On the days I did not hear from him, I was consumed with agony. Those brief hours where no one had heard from their spouse and all of us were holding our breath and holding hands just praying "please don't let it be mine". Then together we would sigh and profess our undying love to our spouse because, for one more day, we got to keep them. This one time fate had smiled upon us and we would be able to hear their voices again. 

Every day I had to put myself back together. After sleeping with a baby blanket, stuffed animal, and one of his shirts, I had to crawl out of my dream World and face the fact that he still wasn't home. I had to tell myself that he was okay, he was safe, he was going to come home soon, and I was going to make it. I fought so hard not to let my mind wander into the scary land of what-ifs and maybes. No matter how long it had been since an attack, what kind of forces were at his base, or who was guarding his back, war is the worst in the way it is totally unpredictable. When word came of a helicopter crash, my heart ached like never before. I had been lucky to hear my husband's voice that morning, but two women were not so lucky. Two women were waiting on the end of the line and instead of the soothing promises of their husbands, they heard the bad news. Their worlds had changed forever in just the blink of an eye and there was nothing we could do to repair the damage. Empathy almost seemed like a whole new word because never before had I felt someone else's pain to that degree. 

How did I feel when he came home? Did I feel like all of the worry in my life would shrink in comparison to the joy I felt?  Yes and no. No words exist to explain to you that feeling. To tell you of the swell of emotion in the crowd, the pride, the joy, the love would be insufficient. No description will make your heart flutter and your palms sweat the way a homecoming does. No tears will feel that way again. I don't think I really sat back and sighed until I was at the homecoming for my friend's husband. As the very last group returned to our base, I felt unparalleled comfort. I knew then that most of us would rest easy for the first time in a long time. 

While nothing in my life compares to the pain and fear I felt over those 6 months, I try to not let go of the lessons I learned during that time. No matter what hurdles we face, at least we face them together. Even the worst fights are worth it because he is here to fight with me. No ounce of love, no late night kiss, no sweet moment goes unappreciated. I try to do everything in my power to not take any of it for granted. I hope I never stop trying to memorize his face, or his voice, or the pressure of his hugs. I hope I never stop saying 'I love you' after every phone call, no matter how short they are. I hope I never stop loving him as if I might lose him tomorrow, because I know there's no way to guarantee we will still be here.