My Dear Husband,
There are things, I've discovered, that I can't say to you when you call or when I write you a letter. I've written two letters and there is so much left unsaid. I can't pour my heart out because I don't want to drown you in my sorrows. So, here I aspirate in my own pain.
Can I tell you that I cry almost every day? Can I tell you that I unreasonably hate a romantic comedy (that I shall not name) because there is a soldier in it going home to see their child? Can I tell you that when some people say they understand, I try so hard to smile because they are doing their best to help me?
I can tell you of the small struggles because those probably would have happened whether you were here or not. They just would have been easier to bear if I had you to come back to. I can tell you the honestly funny things, leaving out the part where I cried before it was funny. I can't tell you that for the first time since I was a child, my crying is audible.
I learn something new about the Army every day. Most days, lots of somethings. Not all of these things uplift me. Not everyone I meet is helpful. Not everyone is kind. Some are hard in the name of being strong. I decided before you even left that strength has nothing to do with whether or not you show your weaknesses. It has more to do with continuing on, even when you think there is nothing left inside you.
The mundane things have become strangely significant. I had to take out the trash which was not difficult, but I had to remind myself for days that you weren't here to do it. I put away your toothbrush so that it wouldn't get dusty with disuse. I haven't put away the clean laundry yet because the last few things you wore are in there and putting them away would mean I won't see anything of yours for months.
I certainly can't tell you how I miss you physically. Your hugs. Your kisses. Feeling you close. The warmth of your touch. The look in your eyes when I know you feel the same way I do. I can't tell you this because I know you feel the same way and, somehow, saying it aloud will make it worse. Before you left, I would often be disappointed that not every kiss we shared was passionate. Now, what would I do for just a simple peck of a kiss?
Anyone who has witnessed me break down and cry really hasn't seen how bad it gets. They've seen the restrained sorrow of someone trying so hard to not cry at all. When I'm alone, it's different....
I know for sure that I have dreamed of you at least once. It's possible I've had more dreams and just don't remember them. I can't tell you about the dream(s) because it is too full of loss.
Of course I don't regret the choice we made. This is important to both of us, as well as our children. I can look into the future and see a good place for us. I just don't think I knew back in June how difficult each day would be and how the time seems to be slowing down tortuously. Some people say that you need to acquire a sense of humor about the situation you're in, but I'm afraid it's too fresh. You don't have a sense of humor about an injury until the initial shock is out of the way. I'm still experiencing shock with numbness gently creeping in.
I love you so much. That much I know and feel every day. I pray for us all every day, several times a day. When I am able to feel hope, I look to December and it doesn't seem that far away, after all.
Yours,
Girly
