Sometime in the next few weeks, C and I will look at our kiddos and tell them what we are preparing for. Not just preparing for a move to a different part of the country (our seventh state since getting married), not just preparing for a new school (Logan’s fourth) but preparing for deployment. A deployment that will come nearly as soon as when we arrive. I know our littlest won’t understand. He’s too small, he doesn’t remember the last one. He won’t understand until a month or two into it. But our biggest little … he will understand. He still remembers. He knows what “deployment” means and he knows how hard it is.
He loves his daddy, absolutely adores his dad – and he will understand this time. He will be in a new place, in a new house, starting a new school, and then his daddy will walk out of that door for nine months.
It takes my breath away.
Because he will understand and that … that just about breaks me.
There are so many words and then there are none. Nothing I know how to say.
I know how to do this. We know how to do this.
It isn’t our first; it will probably not be our last.
But, my God, most of this country doesn’t even think we are at war. Most of this country doesn’t know how spread out our troops are, or how much they are still doing, or that in so many months my seven year old is going to cling to his daddy’s neck and my five year old is going to give him a fist pump and a smile. I want to scream. I want to stand outside and yell, “They are still there!” I want to shake people. I want them to understand that my kiddos won’t have their daddy. That my heart is going to be ripped from my chest. I want the world to know what this is.
I want them to know that a seven-year-old’s heart will break.
That his momma’s heart will break while she tries to hug his pain away.
But then I wonder if people even still care.
In so many months I am going to lean forward while my soldier kisses my forehead and nods his head when I quietly beg him to “come back to me”. In so many months I am going to hold the hands of our kiddos and take the first steps into “go mode”. In so many months I am going to have a night where I cry in the shower and scream into a pillow. In so many months I am going to fight through and push through and I will thrive because there is no other choice.
I love this life. I love this man. They give so much. I can give what is asked. I can fight through it and live through it and hold our kiddos through it. I can love enough for two and fight like hell to keep their daddy present. I know how to do those things. I know how to push through every single part of this.
But, my word, how it still takes my breath away.
Tick Tock. Tick Tock.
Please do not forget. War has not ended for us.