Tuesday, November 17, 2009

Installment 6

November 16, 2009

Tales from an Army Wife: First Deployment
Installation 6

There’s something about the darkness that evokes certain feelings within us. It may be mystery, fear, uncertainty, maybe even inhibition. I suppose that’s why we go on dates at night, and maybe why we feel sadder or lonelier at night, if that’s what is in our minds. I suppose this may have something or not have anything to do with how I felt, sending my husband away for a year…..at night. Walking out of our house, with his bags as the sun set. Loading up our daughter in the dim light of our driveway. Pulling into the base. Gravel. Soldiers wearing bright parking vests, motioning us where to go. The pink streetlights casting a movie-like glow over cold concrete hangars, metal storage boxes with the 3rd Infantry Division logo displayed on them. One soldier motioned to us, and told us “family members were only allowed in one area, as the other area was sterile.” The chill that came over me at that moment wasn’t just the autumn wind…I honestly felt like I was in a movie, slow motion, at night. The darkness covered us, but the pockets of light revealed clusters of people going through exactly what I was going through…the goodbye portion and start of deployment.

As we walked into the hangar, the darkness was cut by the huge fluorescent lights above us. A spartan arrangement of tables were in front with water, snacks, information and, of course, boxes of tissue. All around me, I saw them….the soldiers in uniform, carrying their issued automatic weapons over their shoulders. The children, running, playing, coloring, or being read to by the parent who was about to be gone from them for a year. Many single soldiers reclined against their bags, earphones in, passing the time until departure. So many personal stories filled this huge building.

The walls were lined with homemade banners. Much like those at a football game. Painted with sentiments and company names. But these banners weren’t for a game…they expressed not only thanks but the hopes of safe return for warriors…the soldiers..the fathers…the husbands…MY husband included.

The doors were concrete floor to ceiling. Rusty with large, chunky bolts and screws. I had the feeling I was inside an old, rickety “Death Star.” The darkness outside felt surreal. But, the bright light inside felt just as much. These were to be my last moments with my husband for an entire year.

I chased our daughter, as she, like the rest of the small children, didn’t understand and wanted to run. After corralling her in the stroller, the clock began to bang loudly in my ear. No longer a gentle tick, as my time was about to be up.

After an announcement, the soldiers began putting on the rest of their gear. At this point, the climate in this large area changed quickly. We all knew the time had come…I watched my husband as he wiggled into his Kevlar vest, snapped his Kevlar collar around his neck, and strapped on his automatic weapon. We pushed our daughter outside, back into the darkness. The night surrounded us again, as he would soon leave us and go to the ‘sterile’ hangar. The eerie pink lights shone around us and the chill returned. My husband kissed and held our daughter. He hugged both his parents. As we embraced for the final time, I couldn’t help but cling so tightly. This began to feel like a car wreck that you were expecting. You can’t believe it’s actually happening, it doesn’t seem real, but yet it IS happening and you can’t stop it. Every second starts being sucked away, into the darkness. I had to let go…I had to say goodbye. After the last “I love yous” he turned around, and my hand held his until it finally slipped out, as he walked away from us…into the night….

Thursday, November 12, 2009

November 12, 2009

Tales from an Army Wife: First Deployment
Installation 5

Disclaimer: Severe drama ahead..please take precaution.


When you first wake up every morning, you slowly open your eyes and see the first hints of sunlight beginning to wash away the darkness of night. You stretch, and take your first few deep, conscious breaths of the day. At this point in the ‘wake-up’ ritual, we are supposed to be thankful. Thankful that we can see, that we do breathe, that the sun is shining its way through our window, that we are alive. I pray that God can forgive me, as I haven’t felt those things the past few mornings, as when I open my eyes to the new day, I feel dread. In my mind, the morning means that another day has been “checked off” on the list. Another piece of the bridge has broken away, heading straight towards the impending chasm of……you guessed it…..departure day of deployment.

The best friend a girl could ever have is on a plane this very minute. She is about to fly all the way from California to see me. There’s a part of me that wants her to get off the plane and unpack her bags. If she gets here, I know what that means. It means that my morning dread is about to come to its full fruition. Right now, I can still wake, feeling the bittersweet sadness, but my husband is still here. Only for 3 more mornings. Where is the rewind button? Since I can’t find it, I know that my bittersweet sadness will soon become sick, like my stomach feels when I think about this..

It’s a bleak day here in Pooler, Georgia. The sky is covered with the remnants of rain clouds, and the wind has been blowing and whistling, quite loudly and eerily, actually. When I awoke, my husband had just risen himself, to get dressed and go to his half day of work. Every second he isn’t with me right now I want to just squeeze him as tight as I can, willing him to stay home, willing this deployment to not happen. I can manage coffee, but other than that, I have no desire to eat.

The “to-do’s” of my earlier entries have been completed. The bags are almost packed. All my questions are answered. All the crazy, polar-tech cold weather wear has been washed and vacuum sealed. The wills and powers of attorney are signed….there is nothing left to do now but wait….wait and pray for the days to “check off’ in the other direction. Wait and pray to get to the stage that everyone promises me I’ll get to: the routine, busy place that I naturally gravitate towards. For those of you who are reading this you’re probably thinking: “Whoever is on the plane from California is awfully brave…..this girl is going to need to some serious help.” Believe me, I know…..