It feels fitting that my husband is gone on Memorial Day.
I don’t really know why, but it just does.
Somehow it makes Memorial Day feel more meaningful.
I’ve said this before and I’ll say it again: Memorial Day feels extra special for me since Brandon joined the military. I know that it’s typically a day where we honor those who have died serving our country. And obviously, my husband hasn’t. That being said, that’s exactly what he signed up to do when he joined the Army: to give his life in defense of our country.
Should that be required of him, he would DIE for this country.
And it’s hard not to think about that. It was hard to swallow that realization when he signed up. And it has continued to be a hard pill to swallow during the four short years Brandon has spent in the Army. That there may come a time when he is asked to sacrifice his life for the United States of America.
And, because I supported him in joining the military, I’m willing to sacrifice him if that’s what is required.
I’m willing to become a widow, if that’s what his country needs me to be.
Of course that’s not what I want, but the possibility has crossed my mind every now and again.
All that to say that it seems appropriate that today is the 4-month anniversary of when Brandon left us to go travel the world (ha!).
4 months.
FOUR months.
How in the holy heck has it only been 4 months??
It feels like SO much longer than that. Surely he’s been gone a year at this point, right? And maybe it just feels so long because H wasn’t even crawling when he left and now she’s unstoppable. Or maybe it’s because he’s roughly 1.2 million hours ahead of us time-zone wise, so talking to him on the phone is a rarity. Or maybe it’s because not a single day has passed without my children telling me that they miss their dad; that it’s not fair that he doesn’t get to be home; that they can’t even remember what his laugh sounds like.
The day-to-day tasks are fine. Sure, I get tired of changing diapers. Of course I would love some help with dishes and laundry. Yes, bedtime can feel like cruel and unusual punishment when I’m doing it solo day in and day out.
But honestly I felt overwhelmed a lot when Brandon WAS home.
So it’s not really the housekeeping and parenting that are the hardest part.
It’s the loneliness. It’s feeling like a piece of myself has disappeared. It’s losing my best friend and not knowing when I’m going to see him again. He’s the one person that I can talk to about ANYTHING. I can talk to him about anything and I know he’s not going to judge me or think less of me. He’ll just love me. He’ll love the crap out of me.
Nobody will be shocked that I’m rambling now and I don’t really know where this post is going to end up.
But I ugly-cried in the hallway at church yesterday to a friend whom I hadn’t seen or really talked to in about 5 years, so I figured maybe I had some built-up emotions I needed to get out.
So here it is.
This is hard.
This Memorial Day is hard.
And that’s okay.
Because I can do hard.
Even when sometimes I don’t feel like I can. Even when I look around and see all the perfect, complete families and wonder when mine will look like that again. Even when my anxiety shows its ugly face and I’m not sure HOW I’ll get through it all.
I can still do hard.
My family can do hard.
And when we get through this hard, we’ll be better off in the end.
Happy Memorial Day. I’m forever grateful to those who fought and continue to fight for this country. I’m grateful for the incredibly brave men and women who paid the ultimate price for our freedoms. I don’t think there is really any way to repay them for their sacrifice.
’til next time…
Ash
