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Could you just go already?

We have less than a month now before our fourth deployment begins.  The anticipation is nearly eating me alive. 

I’m up at 2 a.m., trying to memorize what his breathing sounds like, trying to mentally carve the image of him sleeping next to me into my memory. I know, soon enough, he’ll be gone, and these hard-fought memories will start to fade. 

His bag is packed, sitting on the floor of our closet - a constant reminder every day when I dress that he’s leaving soon. The random tears have begun, when denial seeps away and I realize that we’re about to do this again. The tears seem to lie in wait until the quiet moments when I can’t force them back any more. 

This is about to suck.

In the midst of all this, I can’t help but think, “Would you just go already?” 

Not because I want him gone, but rather because this part is killing me.  I’m tired of talking about it and the endless preparations. I’m tired of the pangs in my heart that hit while I watch him play with our kids and I imagine how big they’ll be when he returns. I’m sick of his phone ringing off the hook with unit calls. More than once I’ve been tempted to chuck it out of our window and into the nearest snowbank. I’m sick of pre-deployment and the overwhelming stress it brings with it.

It’s not that I want him to go, as much as it is that I am desperate for him to come back.  Logically speaking, the sooner he goes, the sooner he returns and I just need to get it started. I know that once he goes, survival mode will kick in. The kids will go to school, chores will get done, life will pass, but this wait is torturous. We’re strapped in, headed up the first hill of a roller coaster and I can’t keep from looking down to see just how far we’re about to drop.  It feels like such a long way. But if we can just get this started, I can stop counting down to when he leaves and instead countdown to when he comes home. 

This last month is such a riot of emotion. I need time to slow down so I can soak up every moment, every kiss, every breath until the manifest is called and he is gone. But as desperate as I am to cling to every heartbeat of having him here, I’m ready to rip off the bandage and start the momentary wallow, the routine and the healing that always signals the passage of time.

I’m ready for him to go already, but only because I’m already waiting for him to come home. 

Follow Rebecca at http://theonlygirlamongboys.blogspot.com/

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