Conditioned to Missing Him

Yesterday was my first session with a bereavement counselor. Among the many things we discussed, I told him that being a military wife has prepared my heart in a different way for coping with the loss of my husband. When you are conditioned to missing your husband, through deployments and TDYs, that initial shock of his absence is hard to understand.

I am used to being alone. I think that is sometimes hard for people outside of the military to understand. I know what it is like to fall asleep without my husband. To manage the details of both our lives on my own. These are not new phenomena to my world. I already know that I am capable of standing in his place when he is gone. I have done it numerous times. I am not afraid of that part of being a widow. I don’t want it, but I am not afraid.

What is difficult is dealing with the flutters of hope, believing that this is just another deployment. Thinking, for a brief moment, that he will come home and everything will be ok. In that sense, I feel like my grief is delayed. I find myself wondering when will the weight of his death truly hit me? Will it eventually paralyze me, or will I continue to find resiliency? The stark realization that there are no more homecomings is hard to bear. And yet, that hope does not completely shut itself down all at once. 

I think all military spouses live with the fear of finding men in dress uniform standing at their door. It is the nightmare we try not to think about when our loved ones are deployed. The anxiety is enough to drive a person mad at times. Still, it is a reality that, deep in our hearts, we know is possible. Whether overtly spoken or not, that possibility is part of our marriage vows and a fear we take on in loving our spouses deeply. (It is also in the commitments we make to each other before marriage, as significant others and fiancés who love our service members). 

That commitment to love, in the face of fear, is what I mean by preparing my heart in a different way. I don’t think most people sign up for marriage knowing that their partner stands a greater chance of being fatally wounded than most people. Military spouses do. While I could not help falling in love with Chris (he was irresistible that way), I chose this life with him. And with that, I chose the risk that one day he may not return to me. I took it on willingly because he was a man of character and love, worth every moment of fear, every sleepless night wondering if he was ok. He is worth every tear that I have cried, every moment of intense sadness that I have felt because I love him so deeply. 

I firmly believe military spouses share a special bond of strength. A facebook friend recently posted what was intended to be an inspiring message to all the single ladies, one that talked about managing life on her own, without anyone to lean on. Being single comes with its own set of challenges, I won’t dispute that. And I respect the intent of what she was trying to say. Still, I found myself thinking, “you must not know too many military wives” if that is your perception of marriage. There are so many married women and committed girlfriends out there who are living highly independent lives, and supporting their partners at the same time. It takes strength to love a member of the military. It takes courage to love someone who will not always be there for you because duty calls them away. It takes patience and faith to make it through deployments. It takes tenacity to keep your personal world (as a couple) afloat on your own. In that sense, our hearts are prepared to deal with the difficulties of loss. We have already learned how to let go.

I truly believe that among the reasons Chris chose me was his faith that I am strong enough to be his wife. I believe that is something that all military personnel find in their partners. We are chosen for a reason.

I wish I didn’t have to stand without Chris. I wish that the other families of Jolly 22 didn’t have to know their strength in this way. I miss Chris so desperately. But I also know that I have the capacity to continue living our life in his absence, I have done it before. Military life has prepared me well for this journey as I face the longest deployment of my life. On the other end of this journey, the sweetest homecoming I will ever know. Until that day arrives, I will live a life Chris would be proud of-- I will live up to his faith in me.

I hold our last homecoming close to my heart. Until we meet again my love.