07 March 2012


We starred at each other as the early morning dawn stretched through our window, shifting our bodies into bold silhouetted lines. Neither one of us moved. We remained frozen with rapidly beating hearts, soaking in the moment as William slowly breathed in and out in a calming rhythm. My breathing eventually became in sync with his and my heart relaxed to a slower beating manor, steadying myself for the inevitable. I begged time to stop, to freeze this moment, but we knew that our final hour was quickly approaching.

I told myself that I was going to hold it together. I was going to keep myself composed and strong and be a rock for my kids, but that didn’t go as planned. One look into Krysta’s huge quarter-sized eyes swelling into tears and I lost it. I was done. Finished. The lump that has been burning my throat for days dropped into my stomach releasing the flood waters to burst through the dam, leaving me in a sea of tears.

We tightly hugged, kissed our last kiss, and said “see you later” and “I love you” and “I’ll see you in the fall”. We turned to part ways, and I watched him as he disappeared through the double doors.

And then, just like that he was gone.

Evenings are the most difficult to bare during a deployment. It’s the part of day when Ron walks through the door from work, where Krysta comes home from school, and where we gather around the table for dinner and homework. We have a routine; a routine that runs like clockwork. We all work together like the turning of wheels and gears and rivets, spinning and turning effortlessly —if one piece is missing, we can’t properly function.  Finding replacements and re-rigging our routine is our first step to a successful deployment. Realigning the hndassort and swpassort (the legs on the face of the clock… and yes I actually researched the correct terminology) is what we’re focusing on this week. Day by day, time will continue to tick-tock until we can reunite as a whole family.

Until then, we carry on.



  1. Thoughts and prayers are with you and your family. If you ever need to talk, vent, whatever ... simply shoot me an email.

  2. Stay strong momma. this too shall pass and soon you'll be all together again.

  3. Emily, my eyes are welling for you and my stomach is turning. This is definitely the hardest part of being a military spouse, but where would they be without us and our strength? Stay strong, lean on your friends and family and love those babies for both of you! We are all here if you need us in any form or fashion. Thoughts are with you all. xoxoox

  4. Hugs and prayers to you and your family through this deployment. Thanks for sharing. The photos are precious. Take one step at a time. I know you'll miss hubby through this and remember the good times and the love and soon he will be home, safe. Is it a long deployment? Take care!

  5. stumbled onto your blog and just wanted to leave you a little blog luv! Def enjoyed reading this post!!


  6. My dear, I just cried for you and your heartache.

    Beautiful post. I will be praying for you all during this deployment.

  7. Beautiful. It doesn't matter how many deployments you go through. It doesn't get any easier. Thanks for sharing.

  8. You are in my prayers. You are such a strong woman! I got that feeling in my stomach that I get when parting from my husband just from reading this - it's definitely not an easy thing to do, all of that goodbye business. Just know you and your beautiful family are in all of our thoughts and prayers, especially during this hard time - you're far from alone. Thanks for sharing.

  9. I know this is hard. This made me tear up because I remember how I felt when my own husband left.

    I'm also at Tinker AFB, I think I commented on your blog before awhile back. If you ever need anything, please let me know.

  10. Just passing through.
    Aaaaand now I'm in tears. The all too familiar feeling of wanting time to stop is one I've felt too often. Of our two years together, USAF has only let me have my (now) Husband for 7 months.