Quote from my daughter.
I don't really want to type this post. I wouldn't wish deployment on anyone. The day he left was one of the hardest days, and if you know Colin's birth story, that's saying a lot.
The week he left, the kids decorated a pillowcase for him:
I gave the kids this:
A calendar...we don't have a day Ben is coming home, so we can just check off the days we're apart (he got one too), a clock that shows what time it is where daddy is and a jar of kisses. If I could do the gift again, I would throw in a book from daddy.
We put the kids to bed (I have no idea how they fell asleep) and it was time for him to go. The moment was surreal. How can you say good-bye? How do you let them go?
Eli threw up the day before Ben left and in a strange way, it was a huge blessing to me. It gave me an excuse to have a wallow day. I needed a wallow day. Every time I thought about that awful good-bye, I just teared up. I started another puzzle and stayed in my pj's and let the kids watch whatever they wanted and eventually wondered out to Starbuck's and sadly confess that a pumpkin spice latte did make me feel a little better.
I share this because I think that many people do not want to allow themselves time to grieve. It is a grieving process. The morning he left, I said, "This is dumb. Let's just quit. We'll just be poor...who needs money?" and Ben started laughing as he pointed out all the stages of grief I was going through in a short amount of time. I am already feeling much better, but you have to go through the ugly depression stage to get to the acceptance stage. I'm thankful to have a little community this go around because it makes a HUGE difference to know people who are going through what you are.
So here we are. The deployment journey has begun.