I sipped my morning coffee while looking up at the only remaining party decoration, a woodland themed wreath, which hangs above my table. I’m reminded that my grand scheme of distraction has come to an end. The party is over, the dust has settled, and now I’m left with the sting of reality…Ron is deploying.
My breaths are becoming heavier and short as the days and hours slip by. I haven’t broken down or released the waterworks, I’m just numb. I’ve played this game, danced the dance, and I’m wise enough to know what’s around the corner. It can’t be stopped, it can’t be slowed down, and there’s no going back.
It’s like being on steel tracks when the train is moving at full speed. Frozen. Or in the middle of a tidal wave and not being able to paddle out. Helpless. Or being trapped in a shark’s tank, feeling vulnerable.
But when push comes to shove, I’m going to let that train hit me, and allow that wave to carry me under, because when I stand up on the other side, I will begin to feel again, the numbness will subside, and I can begin to rebuild and reshape my household until my better half returns.
The buildup is always the hardest –emotionally building up for him to leave, mentally building up for his return. Minutes cruelly stretch into hours, and hours linger into weeks. It’s a mental game of tug-a-war; I want time to freeze and capture the quickly moving moments, but yet I want the deployment clock to start ticking and the hourglass to flip over so we can begin the 6+ month countdown and anticipate his homecoming.
As military wives of deployed loved ones, we’ve been put into an unimaginable situation. A situation where the only guideline to follow is to carry on. A situation where it hurts so much that we have to force ourselves out of bed. A situation that brings equal parts of pain and pride.
Pride is stronger than pain, and good trumps evil. That in itself is worth carrying on and standing tall, standing proud.
We mustn’t fall.
"love bears all things, hopes all things, endures all things." 1Corinthians13:7