You've been gone for just over a week. Missing you is a given. But, as I have said in my texts to you, believing in what you are doing helps me get through our separation. I know it helps you, too. This was a joint decision, one carefully thought out and prayed over. Knowing that Heavenly Father approves of your service and is guiding us gives me strength.
In the end, three weeks is not much when compared to the time you were away for Basic and AIT. When compared to the time you could be away, and in danger, on a deployment, three weeks of training is nothing.
I love hearing your updates and stories when we get the chance to talk. You have enthusiasm for what you do, even if the nitty-gritty isn't always fun. You are a natural leader and you know how to talk to the soldiers that you have responsibilities over. You also have no qualms in speaking to those of higher rank. These are just some of the things that confirm to me that you are doing what you are meant to.
All these things sustain me while you are gone.
I was hoping that would be the case for the rest of your absence.
Last night, however, my shiny, positive strength broke.
During a romantic comedy, of all things.
Maybe it was the way the male lead looked at the female lead.
All I wanted was you home and for you to look at me like that. Love, longing, passion.
Your chair beside me was empty.
I had no one to laugh with. No one to hold my hand. No one's shoulder to lean my head on.
I have never liked being away from you, for any reason at all. It feels right to be next to you.
I know we are two halves of an eternal whole because, when you are gone, I feel the separation deep inside me. It's not an emptiness so much as a rawness. Somehow, missing you leaves me feeling torn. Most days I simply feel stretched but still connected to you, despite the distance. Last night it seems that, for a time, the stretch broke.
The feeling hasn't quite left me, but it is better after sleep. Tears still come easily and probably will for the remainder of this day. Maybe tomorrow will bring back my usual cheery nature.
I won't tell you about my struggles when I speak with you next. You need me to be strong so that you can focus.
You'll read this when you get home, anyway. I hope it won't make you too sad.
I still believe in what you are doing, even on days when it is hard to be without you. I knew not every day would be perfect, but I am still proud to be an Army Wife.
Though, I think it goes without saying that I'll be just as excited as the kids when you get home.... maybe even more. It'll be there, jumping up and down, screaming, just under the exterior of socially accepted adult self-control.
I love you, Soldier Boy.
Yours,
Girly
