Ready or Not

“I’m just not ready.” “I don’t know how to do this.”

And these are just two of the thoughts that have run a marathon through my head the past few days. As Robert’s deployment date drew near, I fretted. I worried. I cried. Robert was the picture of patience. He never complained about my endless questions; he didn’t say a word when his favorite t-shirt was smudged with mascara. He held my hand, wiped my tears, hugged me tight and said everything I needed to hear.

We spent the weekend packing too much stuff in too few bags, we said our ‘see you laters’ in a dim parking lot, and I watched him fade into a sea of camouflaged soldiers headed toward a plane. I failed miserably at being strong; I gave up even trying.

I’m sure I’ll keep Kleenex and Hallmark in business for the upcoming weeks but I have come to realize that falling apart here won’t help Robert keep it together over there. Worrying won’t make the time pass any more quickly and being scared won’t keep him safe. He’s counting on me to take care of things here so that he can concentrate over there; I will not let him down.

When you love someone, you don’t want to be without them for a day, much less an extended amount of time, but you know that missing them temporarily is better than not knowing what you’re missing. You know that your heart hurts because the ties that bind are stretching but not breaking. You know that life will be different for a little while but that it will be that much sweeter when you’re together again.

No military family member is ever ready to see their loved one get on that plane. No military spouse ever feels like they’ve got the homeland side of a deployment completely under control. But we know that it’s their calling to do the jobs that keep us safe and keep our liberties in tact. So, we watch them go and we count down the days until they are safely back with us. We take it one day, sometimes one moment, at a time. We take care of the houses and make sure the bills get paid. We cry over random things and send care packages because “when we don’t know what to do, we throw a brownie at it”. We do anything we can so that our soldier has one less thing to worry about. It’s the least we can do. And we wouldn’t have it any other way.

Robert, if you can read this from where you are, know that I love you, I miss you, and I am so very very proud of you. See you soon!