Goodbyes

Email was quiet, phones were silent, and the last day was spent at home playing together. We did art projects and played with fire engines. A special Sesame Street called "Talk, Listen, Connect" about deployment was watched. We had a family jam session with my oldest and Kevin on guitar and my youngest helping me play piano or dancing  We made the best of our day. I think it was the first one I wished that the boys did not need to take a nap since becoming a parent, but knew this was necessary to have a good evening. 

Things were kept as normal as possible. We didn't have ice cream first for dinner nor did we eat with our toes. I just savored each moment of normal to lock that away in my heart for when I would need it the most in the next few months. Baths were run, and books were read with tears in my eyes and on my checks. It was inevitable, but that didn't stop the pain. Each boy had a picture framed on their shelf or dresser to say goodnight to each evening. 

I thought my youngest would take this the hardest. He's my boy, my shadow, and insistent that he cannot share me with anyone. From the darkness of the upstairs hallway, I could hear my oldest with his husky, Wags, playing, "I love you, I miss you, I'll see you soon" over and over again nearly four hours after his bedtime. He didn't want to fall asleep for fear that I would leave before he got up in the morning. 

As hard as those goodbyes were, the next morning seemed to go so slow. I did not want to wish away my time with my boys; however, I was not the best company with them either. Playtime was attempted, but too difficult delaying the inevitable for everyone. Before I went on leave a coworker had given me four small rubber duckies dressed in different soldier uniforms for everyone in the family to serve as our transitional objects until I would return home.  My boys selected their rubber duckies and placed them in their pockets and I dropped mine in a cargo pocket as well. They apparently fit very well in a four person Webbles bus, but now one is missing as is the same in our family. 

We arrived way too early for my flight. I tried my best to be present with my boys, but a soldier in uniform saying a tearful goodbye creates a bit of attention.   A large part of me wished to not let my boys see me cry and remain strong. The reality was that this is a sad time. Nobody wants to say goodbye and where I am going prevents me from getting on a plane and returning for the weekend. A combat zone holds some level of risk, so goodbyes must be said with a reminder that I will see them again.   The tears from my husband were possibly the hardest to witness as he tearfully promised to take good care of the boys.  I made him promise to go fishing, because otherwise his goals would keep him away from obtaining his fishing license. 

Family of a deploying soldier are allowed to go through the security checkpoint as long as they have a copy of the deployment orders and they receive clearance from the airline. We decided not to go through as my boys have flown before and going through security means we get on the plane together. They waited outside of security to watch me go through and I attempted to hold the fractured pieces of myself together. I have flown multiple times a year on business, but this time TSA was being unbelievably helpful in getting me through smoothly without having to take everything off or undo too many things from my bag. Kisses were blown and I grabbed my bag to walk to the terminal and attempt to make the tears stop as I walked.  Flashes of the goodbyes kept running through my mind making that a difficult experience. It was time to put on my game face and drive on.