Thoughts and memories

This morning I started thinking. Now, when I say "thinking" what I mean is my mind starts wandering and plopping down wherever it wants to and my thoughts go in wild patterns from there.

This morning my thoughts went to people with two or more young children. Then to the ability of two parents to take the children on errands or not (leave them home with the other parent). Then. Well, there I was. I started thiking about my inability to leave a child (or both) at home when Chloe was young. They went to the grocery store, haircuts, shopping, oil changes, and doctor/dentist visits. Everywhere. Because John was gone. My thoughts wandered there for a few minutes. All the memories of all the places we went, just the three of us. Then.

Well. Then I went further back. I went back to walking into the house one early afternoon just getting back from Fort Stewart. Already knowing I would be back at Fort Stewart in just a few days for our final goodbye. After getting Jesse out of the car (I was pregnant with Chloe), the phone rang. It was John. "We're leaving tomorrow. I know you can't come back." My mouth was hanging open the words "leaving tomorrow" were in a loop in my head. I sighed. "I'll repack and we'll be there as soon as I can get us there." "Really?" "Of course!"

We hung up and I set about exchanging dirty clothes for clean ones. I may or not have called John's family then (I did at some point). I called the hotel I had just left and they assured me they would hold my room I just left (by then they knew me well). I don't remember the drive back or getting there or anything. I remember standing on a sidewalk the following morning surrounded by duffle bags and people not knowing exactly where they were suppose to be or what, if anything, they were suppose to be doing. There were a few other families there and some were going to follow the buses to the airport (emotionally I could not go there). I shed no tears that morning and if you know me, you know that was an incredible feat on my behalf. Finally, they lined up in formation and did whatever they did. I just watched John, pointing him out to my nineteen month old. They were dismissed and we said our finally farewell then we watched him get on the bus.

Jesse was tired so we got into our van. She soon fell asleep while I watched the buses continuing to load. I have no idea how much time passed. Five minutes. Twenty minutes. It felt like a lifetime before the engines all began to roar then slowly the first bus pulled away, then another and another. As the wheels of the first bus began to move my tears began to fall. It had been all I could do to assure John that Jesse and I would be okay. I cried like a baby in the quiet of our van with our daughter sleeping in her car seat.

I cried over things I had no control over. I cried over things I could not change. I cried because I knew he would not be home for Chloe's birth, something he left hoping he would be back home in time to see. I cried because no one had taken a picture of John and myself. I longed to have picture of us to look at and hold and touch even though I could no longer touch him. I felt very much alone in the world at that moment and until February 14th when he returned.

This morning (and as I type the words now) the tears returned. Six years is not long enough to forget the heartache felt by separation. The loss of time and connection. The pain of not knowing day to day if he was hurt or not. Attempting to reach out to those around you, but to be unseen. Worse was, after communication was set-up to call or email, not getting the daily email for two or three days. John did have some control over that one. He started emailing me to tell me the email would be down because of an injury or death and he would let me know when it was back up. I don't think most civilians know that when someone is injuried they bring down the system until the family(ies) are notified. I would often feel quilty over being happy it was not John. I know time heals all things, but I guess my healing is still not complete. I do think daily of those families who have loved ones over seas and I hope every day it is a good day for our soldiers.