Deployment Journal - Day #1

He left this morning. The days leading up to this were almost worse than the departure itself.

Almost.

We didn't go to the airport to see him off. It didn't make sense, logistically. But it felt strange, foregoing the dramatic farewell you see on TV. But, I'm so glad we said our goodbyes in the privacy of our house.

We had expected our little daughter to stay asleep, but she woke up and wanted to play with Daddy. It was heartrending. Watching him rock her back to sleep for the last time, hearing him sing to her over the monitor, I couldn't stop crying. Her innocent smiles and coos made it worse.

Then, we were fighting the clock. Praying together. Picking which hug and kiss would be our last. It was horrible. He had to drive himself away. I choked on the tears. Walking back inside, I sat down on the couch and sobbed as hard as I could, trying to get them all out. It didn't work. I just kept crying and crying. There! It's over. He's gone. We did it. I told myself. The image of his truck turning the corner kept replaying in my head. I scrolled thru our last pictures. But then, the realization hit me afresh. He's not coming back! Not for a long, long, long time! That truck won't come back AROUND the corner for so many months... Oh God...

Abruptly, I realized I should check the house and make sure he didn't leave anything behind; if he had, and if I found it, he could still come back for it. But no, he'd remembered it all.

The house had been littered with syringes and pills, weapons and gear and uniforms and so many bags. Ever since he got his orders, we both had been sleeping poorly, dreaming vividly, struggling to remember basic information. We felt so muddled, and so overwhelmed by the crazy emotions, and endless to-do lists. Now the strain of trying to get him out the door was gone. I thought I'd feel relief. But nope, I only felt grief.

I impulsively started a game of Tetris, hiccuping while I played. Over and over, game after game. I stopped to drink a cold glass of milk. Decided against calling my husband - it'd only make us both sad again, and now he was surrounded by colleagues. The minutes ticked by, and my baby kept sleeping. I wished she'd wake up.

Maybe I should sleep? No, probably Husband would call once he was alone again, before boarding his plane. I started crying again, mournfully this time, like a small child who has let go of their balloon. I normally resent tears, and fight them, but after this many days of tense, lumpy-throated anticipation, I could not care less.

You should eat something.

No, I might throw up. 

I typed an email. Not sure when he'll get it. I watched 45 minutes on Hulu. IMed a friend. Watered the garden.

Finally stopped crying. Ate ice cream.