What Separates Me?

I am finding that more and more of my blog posts are about soul searching than actual events taking place in our lives. That's not necessarily a bad thing because no new news and no new drama means the home front is at peace, at least for now.

I've posted before about how the UPS guy jokes with us when he delivers packages and you know they all read the labels and have to wonder about the reasons of our orders. He took a double take when I added the 2d yellow ribbon to our tree; the first is still there from when Sgt. left and I've added another one for a dear friend of mine whose son has been in Iraq for just a few short weeks. Everyone who comes in our drive comments on the American flag that hangs inside our living room window. It's hanging on the same hook my Blue Star Flag hung on. I like having it in my window. It reminds me of what my family stands for. My flag pole on my porch was not able to hold up it's duties so I'm on the quest for a new one and when it comes, there will be two flags flying. When people ask for directions to our house, the first thing I tell them is we are the only house on our street who has an American flag. Since that doesn't always seem to do it, I then tell them we are the only house who has a wooden fence. That seems to be what seals the directional deal for them. A fence. Not our flag.

I'm on this new path for a leaner me so I've joined the Y in the town I work in so I can go on my lunch hour instead of grazing on cookies and playing games. I've been once. But it's all good because today is only Thursday and I joined right before I came down with crud last week. So, I've only failed myself 3 days this week. Maybe tomorrow.

As I did my going-to-nowhere-walk on the treadmill and I watched the scrolls across the bottom of the screen on CNN, my mind twirled in circles and different thoughts fly...I should have gone to the grocery store but I really don't want to. It's okay to eat cereal for dinner for the 3d night in a row, right? If I don't do laundry, I'll be walking the treadmill naked with just my shoes tomorrow - not even socks. And then my mind shot back to Sunday, visiting the family whose son died in Iraq. They are the only people I have actually met in "real life" who have lost a loved one while serving there. Even though I know what my heart feels, I wonder if they do. I guess I'm a cynical person. I often question the sincerity of some of the things people say. One of the easiest phrases to throw around is, "we'll pray for you" and I think it's often thrown out too much. If I say it, I do it. But do they? Do we just trust all those who say they pray for us or keep us in their thoughts? I always thank them for their kindness and their well wishes, thoughts, prayers, etc. and move on. I think it's the one thing people say that they know will mean something. Maybe I just read too much into it. Maybe, like I said, I'm just to cynical. But I know I'm not the only one who is cynical...If I'm thinking it about people are people thinking it about me? I am one of the least self-absorbed people I know, seriously. I thrive on doing for others. I volunteer. BG and I make cards to send to our troops. I send care packages. I make phone calls. I try to make sure someone will always know they are thought of, even if it is a stranger.

I don't have a bird's eye perspective on the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan like some do. My perspective is that of Sgt., our friends and my fellow bloggers but what it isn't is what the MSM spews. It's not all sunshine and posies. It's not even half of that. But there is sunshine and posies can break through.

So what separates me from the others? In my mind it's my willingness and passion to do for others freely. What I wonder is this...if I'm cynical towards others and find myself questioning some of their "sincerity," what makes me any different to someone I'm working with? I hug tightly. I listen intently. I hear what they are saying to me. Do they know that? Doing good deeds is not meant to be rewarded by those we help, or anyone for that matter but my inner struggle is making sure they separate me from those who are passers by and those who float in and out as it becomes convenient. I suppose that most people are like me and they know in their heart of hearts when someone is sincere. As long as I'm able, I will always try to touch the hearts and lives of someone somewhere who may otherwise not have it. Maybe it's simply that that separates me.

It's What I Believe In

I absolutely loved D.C.(it’s the first time I’ve been there in about 2o years and then it was only a trip through the Smithsonian on our way to NYC. ) This time I had a wonderful tour guide; she showed me all the sights. I thanked many of our troops for their service; some were on their way home for mid deployment R&R others were visiting D.C., too. None the less, I shook their hand, gave out 3 hugs and said thank you to all. I stopped in at the USO at the airport to say hi to the volunteers who staff it. It’s what I do. It’s what I believe in. Response is usually always good but one soldier in particular stood out because of comments he made. He was in the airport and I was waiting for my flight to D.C. and we started chatting. After a few minutes, he asked me what Sgt. did and by this time we had quite the audience hanging on to our conversation. When I told him his job, the soldier looked me dead square in the eyes and asked, “you know what he does, right?” I answered yes with the strongest smile I had to try and not show concern in it. The next thing he said to me floored me. “All I can say is you need to pray and pray a lot. Both of you.” I was so taken aback by those words and apparently it showed through on my face because he then told me that he was glad there were soldiers such as Sgt. who performed these tasks because they were extremely important but extremely dangerous. I shook his hand again, told him good-bye and I left to go board my flight. I know he meant no harm and certainly didn’t mean to upset me and it didn’t to the point of tears but it did as it tugged on my heart strings and it set my mind rolling for what I would see in the days ahead as I walked the streets of our nation’s capital.

As we walked to the different landmarks and memorials, my heart was touched. It was touched because of what they stand for. The Vietnam Veterans Memorial gave me goosebumps. As I ran my hands over the names touching them and reading notes that were left at the base of the wall, it brought tears to my eyes. There were notes of thanks, drawings by children and a poem written in 1999 by a high school senior who later joined the military and lost his life in Iraq in 2005. It was very quiet and nothing more than whispers. Arlington National Cemetery also humbled my soul. It is one of the most amazing places I’ve ever seen. We watched the changing of the guard at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. Every time his heels clicked as he turned, my heart skipped a beat and it ached.

I took quite a few pictures and I flipped through them several times reading the over and over the words on the monuments. As I wound down at night, I remembered how important of a role we all play in the making of our country’s history. How our choices and our attitudes affect the outcome of so many things; the good and the bad.

I saw so much hate towards Bush, whole stores dedicated to it, and was even invited to a picnic to impeach him. My response: Sorry, he’s my husband’s boss. It is not up to me to judge his decisions. It’s not up to me to question policy. It’s my job to support those who work so hard and tirelessly for the things we all are supposed to believe in. And I do. I do it with pride ignoring those who say I’m wasting my time. A brother or sister in need is never a waste of time, not in my eyes anyway.

As soon as I landed I called Sgt. and the first thing I told him was how proud I am of him and I’m proud he fights for what he believes in and I, in turn, will fight for him and those who are like him. They are his brothers and sisters; our extended family, so to speak. As long as I’m able, no one who needs comfort will go unnoticed. That goes for on the home-front and abroad. Why? It’s what I believe in.

"Bottom of the barrel"

I read a lot of different milblogs and one I've followed for a while is American Soldier. I checked in today and read this post. I went to the CBS website to comment on Andy Rooney's story but comments were closed.

It's apalling to me the number of people who are carriers of the jackass gene. After reading comments on both sites, I chose to post this comment on American Soldier's blog. While my words are not nearly as poignant as some of the other commenters, the message is the same.

I’m going to take my turn on the soapbox.

My husband is prior active duty and currently serves in the National Guard. He served one tour in Iraq in ‘05 and we are anticipating, and preparing for, a second tour to begin sometime this summer.

He has a GED. I have two degrees. By no means does this make me better; quite the contrary. We are both successful in our jobs and are great complements to one another as well as those we interact with on a daily basis. In our day to day lives we are pretty much surrounded by people who are just like us. When he puts on his uniform and gathers with his fellow soldiers, they are a brotherhood united by a passion, their country. Their education levels vary from middle grades through PhD but they believe in themselves, each other and stand strong to unite and do as they are called upon to do. It’s their job.

I get chills every time I hear our national anthem and my heart swells with pride. I grieve with families who have lost their loved ones and I pray for those injured to heal and continue the great journey they have begun to follow. I have sent cards and care packages and prayed prayer upon prayer that God will continue to touch and enrich the lives of our soldiers, Marines, sailors, airmen and Guardsmen.

Before my husband served his tour in Iraq and I began following stories of service members and their families, I thought I had a valid opinion on the war. After listening to him and others, seeing pictures and meeting these fine people face to face, I realized that the only thing I had was my view from the cheap seats and, friends, you can’t see anything from there.

There is so much more than politics involved and I wish those who spew forth their ill informed opinions would actually take the time to look past what is being presented in newspapers and on television. I can show you the pictures of good. I can tell you stories that will make your heart melt. I can do it. I can do it because I have seen it first hand and lived it and I can do it because I believe in my husband and those who are united and volunteer with him. We were once a great nation and now we are a nation greatly divided. We, as Americans, are supposed to be proud of the land we call home and for the stones laid before us to get here. We are now mocked by others because of our inability to stand behind our leaders and it does not help the morale of our troops one iota. While I understand our innate craving for details and to be in the know, please understand it puts our troops who are working hard on their mission in danger. You don’t put a note on your front door as to where you hide your spare key and where your valuables are so don’t ask for details as to the placement of our troops.

Practicing freedom of speech is fine. Mudsling if you will. The old addage about the squeaky wheel gets the grease may be true but it sure irritates the hell out of the rest of us who trying to make a true difference in the lives of so many who have made a difference in ours. Step back and be respectful of those who volunteer. If you think you can do a better job, I’ve got the names and numbers of recruiters all over the country who would be glad to assist you in getting fitted for some desert boots. If say you support the troops but not the war, take this approach: Ben said it best when he wrote, “Soldiering is an honest calling. So is plumbing, farming, and bus driving, America needs them all and I have nothing against anyone who opts for one and not the other.” It’s so very true and it’s so many of these folks who are also serving our country at war. If your support is that great, contact a base or local reserve office and find out whose farm needs tending, whose company needs the phone answered and whose wife could use a hand with the yard. Use your energies for the good of others.

By the article’s definition, my husband is part of the “bottom of the barrel.” By the article’s definition I should hold myself higher than him. I’m proud to be a Guardsman’s wife. I’m proud to raise my child to be proud of the country we live in. My husband is my equal in our civilian life but when he dons his uniform, he is far more superior than I and I promise you, that of the two of us, he is the one you want in the field.

Thank you to everyone who has sent a package, letter, note, well wish and said a prayer. Thank you to everyone who has served and is serving. It is because of you we live as we do.

Sgt. L’s Wife

It never ceases to amaze me the number of people who like to critize, point fingers and lay blame but NEVER seem to follow through with a realistic solution or idea. No one will ever understand a soldier's view until you've walked in his or her boots. No one will never know the angst that comes with being a military spouse/family. Every group has their followers and supporters but I say this with all my heart and soul: There is no group is more supportive, loving and caring for one another than military families, immediate and extended. We are a band of brothers and sisters who are far and near. We share the same joys and tears for the person half way around the world as we do for those who live next door. We're all neighbors and we're all family. Of all the crap in the news about protestors using a fallen service member's funeral as a location to spread their "word," not once (and if I have missed it, I apologize) have I ever seen a military family waiting to pounce on the hearts and grave of one who opposes the war. We're not all perfect by any stretch of the imagination but what I have, as do my brothers and sisters, is tact, grace and the ability to love and honor those who have given me the chances I have and, coincidentally, it's the same chance you have. Funny how that works, isn't it?

I fly my flag proud. I laugh out loud. I hug hard. I listen intently. I pray with every fiber of my being. My Blue Star flag was retired when Sgt. came home but it is waiting to hang in our window again. There is simply so much hate in our society and if only a teensy tinsy portion of the energy was put into something good rather than trying to be the loudest and most obnoxious, so many things would be so different. If my husband, BG's daddy, in-law's son is what is considered the bottom of the barrel, then I have been blessed beyond my wildest dreams truly by the Grace of God. Apparently the bottom of the barrel means I have the love of a man whose heart has room in it for me and my short comings. A man who isn't afraid to stand up for what he believes in. A man who has signed his 2nd re-enlistment since 9/11, one of which was this past August. A man who works hard to make sure all around him are taken care of. I love him and I'm proud of him.

Now, I offically step off my soapbox.

The Best of Both Worlds

Sometimes I think I have the best of both worlds being a prior active duty/current reserve wife and a civilian wife. Sometimes I think it gives me a well-rounded perspective as I've been on both sides of the fence. Other times I wonder.

Sgt. and I married while he was active duty Marine Corps, but he only had 6 months left and all floats, over seas duty stations, etc. were done with so there was nothing except base life to experience and even that was limited as I was in college and had an apartment so he moved to where I lived, which was about an hour away from base. Even during the time we dated, he never went anywhere other than a few nights in the field. We rarely went to base for anything but our circle of friends was great. A lot of his buddies dated my friends so we were a close knit family. Slowly everyone started to get out, with the exception of a few who chose to go career, and started moving away. No one stayed in our state except for us. It was hard to say good bye but, our circle grew again in our civilian life. While we still hear from some of his buddies that we haven't seen since 1997, I often miss that bond. It's like no other.

In October 2002 Sgt. joined the Navy reserves (with his MOS he would be able to drill closer to home vs. three hours away with the Marine Corps). Everyone thought he was crazy but I didn't. I was proud he wanted to serve again. We had talked about it several times during his IRR period but he finally did it. I tend to have high hopes and grand expectations; I guess, in a sense, I want to see the best in everything. Now, I'm not a Pollyanna who believes in blue skies and picket fences all the time but I do like to give the benefit of the doubt. One of the things I truly try to live by is to go into situations with an open mind and good spirit and I believe I'll come out for the better. Usually I'm right. I had the notion that the reserve wives would be the same as the active duty wives. Let me back up a bit...we live in the town where I graduated high school and the friends we have here are friends from my past that we reincorporated with so he never really had any of "his own" friends here. That being said, I thought it would be a great opportunity for him to meet some guys who shared the same interests, etc. and I would befriend the wives, just like the old days. Not.true.at.all. While we made friends, none were like I was expecting or, I guess I should say, hoping for. Most everyone was prior service and it was all about "my dog is bigger than your dog" they were Navy. We were Marines. I can't tell you the number of times I heard the joke that Marine stand for My Ass Rides In Navy Equipment. It was enough to make it real old, real fast.

On December 16, 2004, Sgt. got the call he was being recalled for active duty service. We initially thought it was a voluntary recall and had "the talk" and he said he needed to go. I said I supported him, call back. He did and 2 months later he left for Iraq. Everyone at his reserve center shook his hand, gave atta-boys and said "Tell the Wife to call us if she needs anything. Anything at all." Normally I wouldn't call anyone for anything, it's just the kind of person I am. The first thing I had to do was get an active duty I.D. card. I called for the appointment, which was set for ONE MONTH OUT. She only does ID cards one day a month from 8:00 - 8:50 a.m. No joke. Once all that was done, Sgt's pay was messed up. Surprise. So, I called the only point of contact I had, his reserve center. After getting nowhere fast, I went up there to talk face to face and was told that I needed to contact the Ombudsman but they couldn't tell me who it was and told me it was up to me to figure it out. (Sgt. was deployed with a unit from a different state.) After crying, I called the base they were training at and just dialed a random number because I didn't know what the right number would be and got someone in the maintenance department who didn't blow me off. He put me on hold and found out who I needed to talk to, gave me name, number, extension and a backup person in case the main contact wasn't available. WOW. So much different than at our reserve center. I would say it's the difference in active duty vs. reserve, and I guess it is to a point. After all, the bitchy PO1 was active duty but was used to dealing with reserve issues from their center and since Sgt. wasn't there anymore, he wasn't her problem, nor was I. I know, it's dragging on. So, we'll fast forward. I stumbled across a wife whose husband just happened to be in the unit Sgt. was assigned to. While she and I were becoming friends, so were they. Amazing. They live 5-1/2 hours from us and the husbands were half a world away. "W" was great. We emailed. We talked. I even went to meet her for my birthday that year so I wouldn't have to be alone. I finally had a wife who was like me. A wife whose husband was proud to serve and who was proud of him. A wife like the friends we had before. But she was so far away. His atta-boy friends magically disappeared shortly after he left. No one called anymore or emailed just to say hi. I did get a sympathy invite to one kid's birthday party and how do I know it was a sympathy invite? The mom told me so. It was sad. The people we ate dinners with on weekends, celebrated holidays with all turned away during what was the most trying times of my life, and Sgt's. So, for the 214 days he was in country, I lived my life as my own with the one wife whose husband was serving with Sgt. and another wife who lived in the northeast, her husband was also Navy but assigned to a terror boat team. Both were women that I needed and longed for in my life. My civilian friends are great but they just don't understand the dynamic of the military and it's not their fault. They just simply haven't experienced it. Sometimes you just gotta have someone on your side who can walk in your shoes, or carry you when you can't walk anymore.

When Sgt. returned home, I set up a dinner for him and sent out invites to his whole reserve center. About 15 came along with a guy who lived a few hours away he worked with in Iraq. Those were the people who gave him a handshake and told him, "job well done." Those who didn't even send an email or call to say hello? Many of them left in January for various deployments. I hope they will understand what their wives will need and I hope they are able to find it. I doubt they will ever think back to me and tell themselves they should have reacted differently. It brought to light those who knew us and those who knew us best...both sides of us. The military side and the civilian side.

I'm the wife who hugs soldiers in the airports when I'm traveling and tell them thank you. I'm the wife who gives the wife at the gym with the bumper sticker that reads, "the other half of my heart is in ____" a smile and lets her know I understand. I'm the wife who boxed up enough care packages and sent off that I should have been on the post office payroll. I'm the wife who rallies for our troops. I'm the wife who sends notes to friends deployed. I'm the wife who still checks in on the hand full of other wives I met during our deployment, who all live at least 5 hours away with the exception of one. I'm the wife I wanted to meet. I'm the wife I wanted to be friends with. I'm the wife I needed for support while Sgt. was gone. I'm also the wife who craves for someone in my life to be like me.

Now Sgt. is with a new unit since the end of last summer. I went to the unit Christmas party and only a handful of people even made eye contact. One is a guy I've blogged about before, the single dad whose wife is a crackhead with custody of his three kids. One was a new grandfather who wanted his 6 week old grandson to smile at BG. One was the Captain. Many of the wives have been through a deployment with them to Iraq and then turned around and then reactivated for a domestic job. None of them spoke. None of them looked at me. None of them acted like they cared a bit.

I care. Maybe I care too much. Support is something I try hard to give because I know what it's like not to get it. I went to a meeting last month and met with a bunch of moms whose kids are deployed. I learned that there is no stronger group of women who supports their kids more than military moms. I'm the only wife in this group but Sgt's mom volunteers for a chapter in her state and there are wives in hers and they have pride and aren't afraid to show it. I guess it's the downside of living in a non-military town (Sgt's mom lives in a military town).

I miss a lot about military life. I miss the bonds, the kinship and the "just knowing" that develops. I like living the civilian life because there are no moves, no major pay issues and I only have to make sure uniforms are clean for one weekend a month and three weeks a year.

Is it really the best of both worlds? Does my experience really give me a well-rounded perspective? I think it does on one level but it also leaves an empty spot in my heart that only milspouses can fill.

More of the same...

I've blogged for years but always with someone knowing who I am...this time it's just me and those of you who find me in one way or another.It's the best therapy I've ever done. One day posts will move on to something of more substance.

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New night vision goggles have arrived at the armory. That makes two shipments of new gear/weapons that we know of; the first was new M4s. Still, no budget for uniforms so Sgt. L is still wearing his belt with a newly added notch and when they go in the field, he wears his old
Navy field jacket. He didn't want to take it but I insisted and he was glad I did; it was 18* that night. I told him if anyone gave him any lip tell them his wife said he had to wear it. :) No one gave him any lip and he didn't have to say, "My wife said so." All were happy.

He leaves tomorrow night for another weekend of combat training, which they were told in at the end of summer was their new training and for no specific reason. Those who have been around a while know that nothing happens without some type of reason, especially with the
military. His CO has been emailing the major on other issues and threw in there about a deployment. The answer was to the tune of, "I can't tell you what you already know." It seems to be some code. I'm trying not to let my guard down and we are still planning for a deployment. It's the only way I can cope.

Last night we took the front off Baby Girl's crib and turned it into a toddler bed. She was so excited to be a part of getting a brand new big girl bed with a brand new soft blanket and pillow. She climbed up between the safety rails and "practiced" going nite-nite. Sweet. It was going to be a better transition than I envisioned. Well, that lasted for all of a millisecond. Yesterday BG had her two year checkup and is weighing in at 26 pounds and 32" tall. She also got the last shots she will need until she's 4. The new nurse wouldn't let me hold her; she had her lie down with me at her head holding her down and she held down her legs and gave her the two shots. BG did VERY GOOD until the last second of the last shot and she broke out into crocodile tears. Since she was so good we scooted through a drive through and she got a Sprite - big treat for her. A few hours after we got home, the initial dose of Tylenol was wearing off and she began to show us her leg where her "boo-boo" was and at 6:00 she pretty much passed out - but only with me holding her. She did not want to be put down. Usually our bedtime routine starts at 7 pm and she's out by 7:45 or 8:00 at the latest. Every time I tried putting her down, she wailed. When I put her on her new soft bed, she turned purple and I thought her eyes were going to pop out of her head she screamed so hard. So, I held her until about 8:00 and I was starving so I got us up and ate a sandwich. Sgt. came home from the gym and she was not about to have any part of her daddy...all mommy all the time; at least when she's not feeling well. I ate my sandwich, we
grabbed up her blanket and cup of water and set off for her to sleep with us in our bed. It's not something I do regularly because she is a horrible bed partner and we think she needs her own room but last night was different. She snuggled next to me and when Sgt. came out of the shower she immediately chanted for daddy. She snuggled with him until she fell asleep. It was a rough night for all of us. Usually Sgt. doesn't get up with her at night because he drives a truck during the day and has to get up at 3:30 a.m. for work but last night he did so I could sleep since I was up with her all the night before. They got up and she went potty and went right back to sleep. Sgt. is going to miss that if he gets deployed. It isn't often BG vies for Sgt.'s attention but when she does, he eats it up with all his might. He loves her. He loves her without a doubt.

When Sgt. deployed in 2005 we didn't have any children; it was us and the dog. For days the dog followed me around I thought she just missed him, because you know dogs are like that, right? Wrong. She was hungry. Sgt. fed her before we left for the airport and she eats for a couple of days and we fill her bowl back up. That's one of the 4 things that only Sgt. does and I didn't think to look at the bowl. Once I fed her she was back to her old spot in front of the living
room window admiring the world and I was vapor until it was feeding time again. I didn't forget any more. I packed his sea bag with all the things he would need for three months. He was "embarrassed" that I used a round tupperware like cake container to put the squishables (i.e. toothpaste) in and packed using the packmate bags that allowed us to put everything he needed and some plus a pillow. Come to find out, my ideas weren't all that crack pot and many others had done the same thing. He had all he needed and his squishables were still in tact. See, Sgt., you don't give me enough credit.

The day I left Sgt. at the airport was one of the hardest days of my life and they would only get worse for me. Now, worse is relative to each person and while I understand that others have more hardship than I, it was worse based on my life. My grandmother passed away 12 days
after Sgt. left for training. My mother called and told me she was not doing well and I needed to go see her. I went to the nursing home before church that night. She was laying there and had lost so much weight she was pretty much just a shell gasping for air. We had a DNR and grandma had lived a God-filled life and was satisfied within herself. At church I asked our congregation to pray for her. They did. Grandma died that night. We buried her on a Wednesday in her home church cemetery about 3 hours from our town. I drove down that
morning and back that afternoon. I stopped and bought some tulips on my way down and my mom's best friend held my had during the short graveside service. I felt as though my world had been set on it's ear. My husband was in combat training 14 hours from our home getting ready to deploy. I had no children. My mother and dad were as distraught as I was and I was empty. Ms. T. held my hand and meant it. I was glad she was there. A week after that, Sgt. found out they were leaving about 2 weeks ahead of their original date so I booked a flight, rental car and hotel room. I flew Friday night and would be able to see him for half a day on Saturday and all day Sunday and have him back to base by 5:30 Monday morning. We had the best time together. We shopped for BG and he picked out some things for her. After 41 hours of just being together, we packed up and I took him back to the base. That empty feeling was there all over again. I said good bye to his room mate and friend and we made our way back to the parking lot. Sgt. cried, which isn't something he does a lot. I cried, which is something I do often. We said our good byes and they were starting to gather for formation. He hugged me tight and told me
he loved me. As I drove off, I looked back in my rear view mirror and he was standing there waving at me and blew me a kiss. I cried all the way to the airport and sat waiting for my flight. Alone. Empty.

I got home and began the wait of all waits until I would hold my beloved in my arms again. He was able to call me for about a week after that and they were on lock down and I wouldn't hear from him until they arrived in Kuwait. Well, at 2:38 a.m. I got a call they were at their stopping point along the way. I was glad to hear his voice. It was then that the time between phone calls would be unknown. I was living my day to day life in the luxury of my home with all the comforts and he was beginning the dirtiest, hardest and most emotionally taking task of his life. He was going to war. One week later he was in a war zone.

Throughout his deployment, I often thought I had no right to be upset with him being gone. After all, I had no children to worry about and explain where daddy was and what he was doing, I was okay financially and there were so many more people in the world who had things much
worse than I did. Oh, how I missed him. I traveled to meet some e-pals while he was gone and had a wonderful Labor Day weekend jaunt. When I got ready to leave, the gal I traveled with was about to leave to adopt their child and told me, "I'm not ready for this." Yes, she was. She had journeyed for a year to get to the point she was at and she was ready. She was ready because her husband was home to meet her at the airport and one week later they would board a flight to end the greatest journey of a lifetime; bring their daughter home. Me? I did okay through most of the flight. Because it was a holiday weekend, the airport had opened an extra over-flow lot and I got off in the wrong lot. Smart. I always park in the same area so I don't make that mistake but didn't this time and my mind was flooded so I just.could.not.remember. It is one of the lots you can't get out of unless you are a vehicle and the gate slides. No way out and there wasn't another shuttle coming my way. A nice old couple picked me up and took me to my lot. I couldn't find my car. I wandered and wandered. I was pushing the panic button but nothing happened so I couldn't follow the sound. A pilot stopped and offered to help me. No, thank you. I walked two more aisles and there it was. The car I bought the day their hooch got hit by a rocket. I sat and cried in the parking lot. I cried down the interstate and I called my mom. I didn't want to go home to an empty house. I simply didn't want to do it. But, I didn't want to drive the extra hour to my mom's house, either. So, I picked up the dog at the kennel and went home and cried by myself.

214 days after he stepped foot onto foreign soil, he stepped foot back on U.S. soil. I stood in a tropical storm, front and center, with my poncho, a borrowed umbrella and American flag. 5 1/2 hours later the lights of the plane broke through the gray rain clouds and landed. What a glorious day it was. My husband was home. He was home safe. There were no losses. Some were injured but none died. That was the most glorious of all.

I made many friends that day standing in the rain. Not friends I've talked to again or even email with but women who "knew" me and my life. They knew exactly what I had felt and for the first time I felt validated. It took almost a year to give me the comfort in knowing it was okay to have my feelings and it took 16 strangers to do it. Thank you, ladies.