Our Turn (6 Month Milestone)

A few days ago we reached an important milestone in this 15 month deployment- 6 months. A 50% of a year has gone by since I drove away from him on that warm, summer evening at Ft. Bragg. This little curb is the exact place where we spent our last moment together. We'd already said our goodbye privately, but this is the little spot of earth where I last saw my husband running off towards an area where soldiers were gathered.

The sun was setting and I drove away with my heart thumping, hoping that reality would hit only after I left the base. It was a long drive to Raleigh and a longer night alone in a rink-a-dink hotel, wondering if each second was the moment his plane was taking off. Part of me felt I should be running along side the plane as fast as I could until I fell on my face in the dirt with one arm outstretched as his plane lifted into the sky. The other part of me just wanted to sit perfectly still, and never speak again, as if denying a voice to grief would deny its sovereignty.
I haven't cared to share the events of that day with anyone--I think I needed to get more of the behind me. You just really don't want to be on a military installation the day of a deployment if you don't have to be. Just watch the happy homecomings on TV. Trust me.

Everyone has their own way of saying good-bye.

In one instance, a husband was hugging his wife and kids in the front yard of their humble little on post home. All of his stuff was on lawn and I imagined at any moment his ride would come and take him away. Other couples were having their private moment in parking lots---away from the bustle of loading gear and the lines at the weapons draw. I could almost hear the delicate whispers and feel their embrace.

I saw a father walking with his arm around his teenage son, knowing he was probably telling him to do good in school and listen to his mother or that he was the man of the house for now and needed to step up. The son was not crying, but nodding his head as if he understood what his dad has been telling him on a different level today. "Yeah, dad. I understand. I will take care of the lawn and make sure we lock the doors at night. I will take care of Mom, little Joe, and the baby."

Small children played near the busses. Although initially I wanted to be with my husband until the very last moment possible, when I saw them running around, oblivious to the seperation they were about to experience, I suddenly was glad I wouldn't be there. I'm not sure I could bear to see their tears, their mom's trying to soothe their cries through her own tears as the busses drove away. Sigh. My heart still aches when I think of what I saw that day.

The beginning of our good-bye didn't involve any words. It was just us, alone in bed a day or so before he left. I was in his arms and quietly weeping while he held me close. Nothing was said. We knew.

It seemed only seconds passed before we were sitting on a picnic bench adjacent to a little pond at Ft. Bragg. I felt the almost ghostly echos of many goodbyes that had taken place there in all the years before we stood there. There we were, standing in the shadows of 82nd Airborne paratroopers from times long gone, whispering prayers and words of love and encouragement that belong only to us. It saddened me to know they also stood here with a wife or sweetheart saying they'd be back and either did not or else came back a different man. At the same time, I felt a quiet strength wash over me with the gentle peace of knowing that it was simply our turn.

As the circumstances of the world's troubles pulled us apart, I felt at the same time we were being warmly received by the others in the ancient tribes who do not fall to pieces when the drum of war begins to beat. Oh, how I miss him.... and yet I know that we can't be broken by such a minor thing as 15 months of time - not with the examples that we have had from those who've gone before us.

The Worst Kind of Good Dream...

...is when you dream that you are together and wake up and remember that you aren't. Although the story line was not very exciting, the dream I had during my nap was vivid. There was dialogue, eye contact, and laughter. It was as if my skin could feel the closeness of his presence.

I awoke from the sound of the television, hearing the exaggerated dialogue of Sylvester Stallone buying a watch for his wife in Rocky while she wrung her hands about the cost. Half asleep, half awake, I remembered the time at the PX when K. tried to buy me a "too expensive" watch saying that my wrist didn't deserve a mere watch, but rather, a "time piece." My heart smiled.

A moment after that, I became cognizant that I was really just laying on my couch alone, listening to the sound of the TV. The family gone from a Thanksgiving visit and knowing the man in my dreams was half a day ahead of me in Iraq, I felt starkly alone.

So Far Away from Me

A little video I made recently after catching this tune on the radio.

Arms Gone Astray

You know what kinds of things make it hard to write in this "positive" blog? These kinds.

SEAN M. HAFFEY / Union-Tribune
Veterans for Peace set up 2,400 crosses on the beach in Oceanside.
Each marker has the name of a service member who died in Iraq.

Flat Daddies

If you have little ones at home, you might find having a "Flat Daddy" around is a nice thing for your kids. Flat Daddies are life-sized portraits of your loved one and are free to children of deployed parents although the wait time is long. Really now, with 15 month deployments, what else are people with young children doing to keep Daddy (& Mommy) alive around the home? There are also life- sized cutouts available.

Night

It is 2:24 am and as long as my day was, I am unable to sleep. I guess there are a lot of people who can't sleep tonight and are thinking of someone over there too, but sometimes it feels like you're the only one.When I see him again, I hope we can sleep for 3 days straight just so I can savor what deep sleep next to someone you love is like.

Happy Anniversary

It's not really our anniversary, but we are 4 months down (yay!) with "just"11 to go. So far, we're doing pretty good. We're not the couple that spends time fighting on the phone ( it is not uncommon to overhear soldiers having long distance phone squabbles or email fights with their wife). I think one of the reasons that K. and I do not struggle with this is because we communicate well with one another and we take the time to edify, encourage, and re-assure one another. One way he does this is by sending cards to me. The only "problem" is that there is such a limited selection of cards he has access to that I tend to get birthday and anniversary cards all the time, even when it isn't my birthday and we haven't even reached our first anniversary yet. I'm saving the cards. I'm sure I'll look back fondly at all of the "birthdays" and "anniversaries" that we spent apart this deployment.
Happy Anniversary to you too, honey.

Juxtaposition

This is the same woman on two very different days of her life.

"Terri Gurrola clings to her daughter Gabrielle, 3, at the Atlanta Hartsfield-Jackson International Airport, having just returned from a seven-month tour in Iraq. The news this week was dominated by Army Gen. David H. Petraeus' report on the state of the war in Iraq and his recommendation of a gradual drawdown of troops." (Louie Favorite / The Journal & Constitution)

"1st Lt. Terri Gurrola, medic in Company C, 203rd Forward Support Battalion, casts the leg of Hussein, a 15-year-old Iraqi boy, April 9, at Forward Operating Base Hammer, Iraq. Hussein lost his leg in an improvised explosive device incident four years ago. Photo by 203rd Brigade Support Battalion." Medics Bring Hope to Iraqi Boy, MNF-I Official Website

It's Nothing Personal

I think one of the hardest things I am working through right now is the change in communication pattern. It's quite unexpectedly something I have found myself fighting not to take so personally. I'm embarrased to even admit it as something about it seems so selfish and immature.

I think people tend to underestimate the what limited communication would feel like if they were in a similar situation. I mean you figure when a man deploys to a combat zone, that something inside of you clicks on and you stop needing to talk to him so much. You figure that you will just rationally understand that he's busy and you won't notice if he emails or not. That you'll be so consumed with worry that you won't stop to even expect a call. For cripes sake woman, the man is in a combat zone! There's a war going on!

I want to be positive in this blog, but I also want to be honest. And the truth is that some days, I'm actually human. Some days, I'm but a woman who misses being able to confide everything, even the mundane. Some days I want long juicy letters and emails even when I know they are not practically possible most of the time and yes, I feel this sometimes even when I know he's busy or tired! What a brat!

I'm mature enough to recognize that these are moments I'm just going to have to grow through. And I also realize that it works both ways--he misses this too except he has to do it while he's stuck over there! The truth is, I am not curling up into a little ball about this, in the end, it is just one of the inconveniences of war that some people are some how able to handle. There are much greater, more serious prices to pay pay in war (billions of dollars, thousands of lives...).

So why do I write? I guess because I know this is not the kind of thing military wives will complain about except to eachother. It's important enough for me to tell you that that when you're listening to the news and hear about the stress the repeated deployments have on families, I feel like I want people to think about these kind of moments--and multiply at least 1 instance a day x 180,000 soldiers x 90,000 estimated wives x kids x immediate family x 15 months. A brigade isn't a news blip or a dot on a map--it represents a lot of people and a lot of little moments.