3 Months Down

RebeccaUncategorized1 Comment

3 months down.

In some ways, it feels like he left, like I don’t quite understand how three months could have already passed.  I feel like he could still walk through that kitchen door, drop his gear on the floor and sweep me up in a kiss at any moment.

God, I wish.

But he’s not going to be here for a pretty long time.  Yeah.  We’re only three months in.  This month has presented us with such a unique group of challenges, and yet unique adventures too.  It’s hard to hate a month of a deployment, or to wish it would go faster.  Sure, I wish we were done with it already, but that’s six more months of my kiddos’ lives, and I can’t just wish it away.  It’s their lives too, you know?  It’s their summer, their last day of school, their birthdays.  I can’t just wish them away because I miss Jason.

I can’t say it’s been smooth sailing so far, but it hasn’t been a total disaster either.  We’re all still adjusting here, trying to navigate our life without the most important person to us all.  But I think we’re doing okay.  I mean, I’m not under my desk with a bottle of wine by lunch or anything.

The kids miss him.  It comes from them at different times and different ways, but he’s on their minds than even I can catch on to.  We can be having the best day, but a simple, “I wish Daddy was here,” can break my heart immediately.

He’s all but disappeared around the house.  His baseball hats (which he leaves on every available surface) have been gathered up and put in the closet.  I put his baseball mitt up, tucked away his coat, and finally did his laundry.  Sad fact?  I’d kept his last load of laundry in our room, and tossed a few items in every load I did of mine.  I just liked to see it there as I folded.  Yes, I’m terribly cheesy.  But he’s fading here in the little ways that mean so much when he’s gone.  I miss the scent of him on our sheets, the sound of his heartbeat when I curl up on his lap.  I miss the sound of his voice from the next room, and the way he sneaks behind me to kiss my neck.  More than that, I miss the kids’ laughter as he tackles them to the floor and our toy room becomes an all-out melee of giggling boys and tickles.

But this ache in my chest, the deep, cutting fissure that expands every day that he’s gone… that’s the brutal part of this.  And yet, it’s the beautiful part too, because I know how blessed I am to love someone so much that he leaves a void in my soul when he’s missing.

He’s been gone three months, and usually at this point, we’re under the 100 day mark until midtour, but that’s not the case, since we’re pushing through with no break.  It feels more like a marathon this time, pacing the miles, trying to keep up without wearing ourselves down to the bone.  Three months down, and so many to go.  Ugh.

That being said, I’ve done so much more than I thought I could this deployment.  I’ve changed my health, my outlook on priorities, the very routine of my day.  I’m getting the boys out way more than I have in years past, trying to fill their summer with memories and laughter, instead of the tears of missing their dad.  I’m concentrating more on what happens within this family, and less on what happens outside it.  There are days that I feel like I’m losing my ever-loving mind, and days I think I’ve got this handled like Olivia Pope.  Just depends on when you catch me.  The last couple of days?  We’re nailing it to the wall.

We’re Three Months in, and Jason’s missed:

Aaron losing 2 teeth
Aidan’s first time at Summer Camp
The gorgeous swing-set in the back yard
Emily Visiting
Rain.  A lot of Rain.
Adventures with the Littles
4th of July
Winning Top Mil Blog!  (EEEK!)
Packing up a living-room worth of hockey gear for camp.
His grandmother’s 75th Birthday
Hundreds of kisses.

3 months down.  We’re rocking this.

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