The Facade

And just like that, the wall came tumbling down.

After reading Jake's last post, the reality of what's going on here hit me like a ton of bricks.

It's not that I haven't noticed him gone...but he has been gone since about mid-May, so sometimes it feels like just another day of him not around. It's not that I've gotten used to it, but somehow I've managed to "cope" and just keep going in his absence.

But today, after reading his last blog post, the awful reality of what's really happening, why we're in this position, and where he is now just weighed down heavily on me.

I know that I've been in denial about this portion of the journey. It's been a long time coming, so it felt like maybe the day would never come. Maybe my life is so much more full of things to do this deployment than last deployment, perhaps I have less time and less mental capacity to worry as much as I did before. Maybe I have a better support network or more usable coping mechanisms this time. I don't know what it is...but so far this deployment, for me, has been a lot easier to manage.

Today, though, I read his words. I know my husband...and I know his heart. I know what he's feeling...and what he said there for all to read, that is truly him.

It makes me hurt that he saw that. It makes me sad that he was a part of it. It makes me long for his arms to hug me...or maybe for my arms to be hugging him, too.

He has been a part of so many of these funerals and processions and memorials for heroes on our soil. Too many. And he has always been selfless and brave and proud to do that. But he has also felt those losses deeply. I cannot imagine what it felt like to stand there on ramp duty at Bagram and watch someone just like you, draped in the flag. But I can. I can see it through is eyes and his words. I know why he shared that, but why why does it have to be this way?

When the Twin Towers fell, I was SO naive. I didn't even know what the Twin Towers were, and I had no idea what a terrorist was. I was 20 years old. Now children hear that word on a regular basis...they know what a terrorist is, they hear about them on the news daily. It makes me sad that my son will have to know that.

So many of my hours of Jake's last deployment were consumed with worry. I couldn't just "be" in my apartment without fretting that "they" were coming to tell me he was dead. I developed an almost OCD-like response to a car door slamming: Car door slam. Check the window for the men in uniform. It was exhausting. I didn't realize until he came home how much rest I was not getting while he was gone.

And now, here we are again. He's been so reachable, so available in the States that I almost took it for granted. But now, when something happens, or I want to talk to him, I cannot just pick up my cell phone and text him. With the development of technology like Skype, we are able to connect and communicate, which has been wonderful, but again, perhaps just another way for it to feel like he is so close, when really he is a world away and in a very dangerous place, after all.

I cannot let this consume me. I cannot let this dominate my emotions and my thoughts. I have to stay focused, much like he has to remain focused on his task at hand. Still, it was difficult to watch that facade break away...Jake revealing himself to us, and for me to realize that we truly are still at war and that until I see his smiling face next to mine and hold him in my arms that I will have an empty place in my heart.

~Emily