Color

My Dear Husband,

Since you've been back at AIT, things have been different. I can see you and talk to you every day, now. Skype has been a heaven send for me. To see your face and hear your voice every day is wonderful, even when the connection is bad and we spend those precious minutes squinting at each other and stating, intelligently, "Huh?"

It is also more difficult in some ways. When I was waiting for letters, that was a special kind of torture. I never knew when I'd hear from you and, in a way, was able to just go on with things because hearing from you was so unlikely on a day to day basis. Now, because I know roughly when you will call, everything stops around that time and I don't do anything so that I can be near the computer. In some ways, it makes the time move by slower.

The difference is, it makes the time sweeter and more bearable.

Seeing you in your uniform makes me smile. It looks good on you and you wear it well. It's just a shame that I don't get to see you in person while you wear it.

Standing next to you when you're in uniform makes me the proudest wife in the world. Standing next to you when you aren't wearing it, but knowing you wear it just below the surface, makes me secretly the proudest wife in the world.

We're trudging along in the final stretch. We won't touch each other again until you're done. Graduated. Officially official. Each day brings us closer to when you'll be home. Every minute. Every second. There's a poignancy to everything that was never there before we were separated.

I think it's strangely appropriate that you left just as fall was winding up and winter was so close on its heels. Everything was changing and, eventually, dying.

The cold months have been empty and gray.

Christmas was a burst of color and joy.

Valentine's too.

When you are home, the vibrancy and potency of my life comes back.

I think it's also appropriate that you will be coming home as things warm up and life comes back to everything. I keep looking for the signs of Spring because I know that so soon after the world gets its color back, I will too.

I love you, Soldier Boy.

Yours,

Girly

Home

My Dear Husband,

You've been home for a week. One more week to go and we'll be back at the airport saying goodbye. Again.

Your children were so excited to see you, they were providing plenty of amusement for those around us. I saw more than one smile from the people waiting for their loved ones.

When you came to the top of the escalators, I almost didn't recognize you. If I hadn't known exactly what to look for, I might not have thought it was you. But, in the end, how could I not know the man I've loved for what feels like my whole life?

Like you, I couldn't keep from crying. The look on your face when you saw your children was almost more joy than I could hold in, myself.

And I have to admit, finally getting to touch your bald head again was almost all I needed to feel you were really home. The kiss just sealed the deal.

You're home. I'm trying to make sure I value every second. If I could slow down time, I would. But, in the end, you will go back and I will be here. The strings where our hearts are attached will have to stretch again. I hope it won't hurt so much this time since it will be familiar.

I love you, my Soldier.

With all of everything I am.

Yours,

Girly

P.S. Thank you to the woman who offered to take our family picture. You made my day!

Thankfulness

My Dear Husband,

I think today might be the hardest day that I've had in a long time. It took time, but I eventually adjusted to you being gone. Holidays are different.

When I think about it, this is the first major Holiday that you aren't home. Thanksgiving is about family, food, and thankfulness for what we have been given by God. So, in an attempt to avoid a pity party on my end, I want to tell you how thankful I am for you.

I'm thankful I found you. I can claim that all myself. I found you. I just didn't know it was you at first.

I'm thankful that you recognized who I was to you even when I didn't. 

I'm thankful that our relationship was so easy and so safe.

I'm thankful that we were so in love that we didn't think about how scared the world thought we should be getting married so soon after meeting.

I'm thankful that we had time together to get to know each other so well before we added children into our lives.

I'm thankful that I was able to give you children. They have been an amazing blessing in our lives and I couldn't imagine how our lives would be without them.

I'm thankful that you graduated with a degree in studies that you love. Your passion makes me smile.

I'm thankful that when life didn't seem to go the way we had planned, you kept looking for the answer. You didn't give up.

I'm thankful that you are brave enough, strong enough and loving enough to serve your entire country.

I'm thankful that because you chose to serve your country in the Army, that we have both become stronger as a result. 

I'm thankful that we are teaching our children about patriotism and self-sacrifice. The country will be a better place as this generation of "Military Brats" grows up.

I'm thankful that our future, though not completely clear to us, has a definite path.

Finally, I'm thankful to be an Army Wife. I'm thankful to be your wife.

I love you! You're my favorite.

Yours,

Girly

It DOES Go Before the Fall

My Dear Husband,

I had a few days of strength. I'm not sure what brought them on. Perhaps getting your letters. Perhaps the time that I got to spend with other adults. I was treading on the line of cockiness... or maybe pride: "I can do this. In fact, I'm pretty sure my husband will come home and be utterly stunned and amazed by how incredible I am!"

Then it all came crashing down, yesterday, and left me crippled on the floor of my own mind.

I can't even cry.

I've tried.

The most I can do is allow my eyes to water and then it's gone again. Sometimes a tear will fall, but it feels like a lie. A selfish, self-pitying falsehood.

I wish I could cry. Wouldn't I feel better to let it all out?

I know two things right now. I know that I'm in a dark enough condition to give a few seconds of thought in bad places. Places where I wonder if neglecting myself would really be that bad. Places where self-destructive behavior sounds like a reasonable way to purge my feelings.

I also know that these feelings will not last and that in a day or two, hopefully sooner, I will look back at this moment and know that I wasn't myself. I can feel myself floundering, but I know I will find the air soon. I have to believe that. I have to.

I was aware enough of my state of mind last night to pull out my scriptures (which had gotten a little dusty) and try to find something to pick me up.

I found the bookmarks you put in when you gave the scriptures to me as a gift. I never moved the bookmarks because I didn't want to forget what you were trying to tell me. I also found a few scriptures that I had marked as important. I think I may have marked them back then because I thought they were beautiful and faith-promoting. Now I know I marked them, completely unaware, because I needed them now.

Luke 1:37 - For with God nothing shall be impossible.

Jacob Chapter 2 - All of it!
Jacob Chapter 3 - All of it, but especially Jacob 3:1 - Look unto God with firmness of mind, and pray unto him with exceeding faith, and he will console you in your afflictions.

I feel like I've been praying a lot; nearly every moment of every day. It may be that I've been seeking relief from my pain and loneliness and not comfort and consolation. I think I will have to change the way I pray. I will have to remember that, while I am strong as an individual, I am not strong enough to go through this time without His help.

I love you. I miss you. I am learning to be as brave as you are.

Yours,

Girly

Unsaid

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

Songs

My Dear Husband,

You're on your way.

Your daughter cried all the way home from the airport. Most of it was a tearless wail, calling out for you. She was mostly better by the time we got home.

Henry slept most of the way home and didn't cry until he was sitting at the table with his lunch in front of him. Maybe he understands now.

You told me on the way to the airport that you'd had a song stuck in your head since you woke up this morning. I've had a song stuck in my head for two days, with a second one flitting through ocassionally. It says something about where we are, individually.

The first one is Last Living Souls by the Gorillaz. That song is as full of angst as I am. "Are we the last living souls? ... The Lord, seeing all now, can you take us in?" Does it sing of the end of things or does it sing of hope and rising from and out of desolation?

The second song is Wake Me Up When September Ends by Green Day. Though I'm sure the author's story is not the same as mine, the sadness and sense of loss are still meaningful. Maybe I will wake up when September ends.

Today is not the best day for me. I have moments when I feel like I can do this, but then I remember that I am without you. What will I do?

Your song was a gift to you. I know it was. It gave you peace today. 
I had to look up the words because I couldn't remember them.

God Is Love

Earth, with her ten thousand flow'rs,
Air, with all its beams and show'rs,
Heaven's infinite expanse,
Sea's resplendent countenance-
All around and all above
Bear this record: God is love.

Sounds among the vales and hills,
In the woods and by the rills,
Of the breeze and of the bird,
By the gentle murmur stirred-
Sacred songs, beneath, above,
Have one chorus: God is love.

All the hopes that sweetly start
From the fountain of the heart,
All the bliss that ever comes
To our earthly human homes,
All the voices from above
Sweetly whisper: God is love.


Even when it is difficult, I will try to remember how good we felt about this in June. How certain we were that it was the right choice. Under the pain, hope still lingers.

I will not wallow, but I will not be ashamed of my tears. Who ever said a brave face has to be dry?

I love you. I miss you.

Yours,

Girly

The Black Veil, The Yellow Ribbon and The Candle

My Dear Husband,

I've been thinking a lot about you leaving tomorrow. I've been crying a lot more than usual, but I wouldn't say I've cried a lot. I feel like the last couple of weeks have flown by faster than I could have imagined possible. It seemed like we had more than enough time to do everything we wanted or needed. Where did it all go?

I know you will be fine, if a little lonely. I want you to know that we, who you are leaving behind, will be fine, too. I'm glad that you worry because it means that you care. 

I've also been thinking a lot about my hair. Without any vanity at all, it simply has to be just so. I wonder if I have romanticized convenience. Am I just convincing myself so that I can claim to be a supportive wife? I don't think so, but I am sometimes blind when it comes to my relationship with you.

My thoughts have been contradictory in many ways. I almost feel dishonest when I explain to people my reasons behind the cut. "It's a sign of solidarity and support while he is gone." This is true, but it's not the entire truth. I did it for many reasons. Solidarity. Support. Simplicity. Laziness (I hate making hair appointments). To be honest, I was tired of the red already. Shaving off the dye-job was easier than the two or three hair appointments it would take to get it all cut off inch-by-inch. And, frankly, I wanted to see if I could pull it off.

It is more than that, too. It is like I removed a part of my identity when we shaved it all off, while at the same time I reinforced my individuality. If it was possible to hide behind a 2 to 3-inch hair-style, I was doing it. "Hey, look, I'm a rebel! I spike my hair every day! I even dyed it blue once! I'm not your typical LDS mom! Woohoo! Look at me, I'm awesome!" By shaving it off, I stripped away the camouflage and proudly declared myself an Army wife. (You see what I did there?)

When people thank you for your service, it makes me feel proud of you. When they thank me for mine, I feel a fraud. But why? We do both serve in our own way. I have been overwhelmed with the words of strangers.

I feel that I will mourn you in a way while you are gone. Perhaps I am finally truly understanding how someone can mourn and be proud at the same time.

This is my black veil and my yellow ribbon.

This blog is the candle in the window.

The life, love and joy of your family waiting for you at home is the light left on.

Yours,

Girly