Happy Sad

One of my guilty pleasures is watching military homecomings. Whether it’s with their never-before-seen newborns, pets or family, I could watch homecomings for hours on end.  Could be a surprise could just be at the airport, docks, base, whatever.

One of the reasons I love these so much is because I’ve been there. My first husband was a U.S. Marine. He is a great man. I remember waiting for him at K-Bay (Kane’ohe Marine Corps Base). My stomach in knots. Nervous. I don’t know why you’re so nervous about seeing them again. It’s like you’re worried they won’t recognize you or be happy to see you. The biggest fear is they won’t be there. I scanned faces, frowning, you always get so depressed when you don’t see them immediately that fear they missed the plane/boat/bus or something much worse becomes palpable. I had my leis, my gifts in the car. There’s this monumental build. At any moment you feel like you’re just going to crumble to dust. Somehow, he got behind me. Tricky bastard. He wrapped his arms around my waist and whispered softly in my ear.  I spun around on my heels so quick I was dizzy and I fell into him and there was such a release in me. I clung to him like if I let go I was going to lose myself.  My body quivered and heaved and shook. I cried and shrieked and wailed and clawed at him.  I crushed the leis in my hand and couldn’t find words. There are no words for the relief, for the joy of a safe return. I was scared to let him go. We stood there for a long time while the tears slipped out and my voice was foreign to me. Even when he was putting his bags in the car I clung to him. His friend, who we called “Fez” had no one waiting for him, so I brought him a lei and a gift too and hugged him but kept one hand on my husband.

We spent nine months apart from each other. I wrote him letters every day and he told me some weeks when the mail got backed up he’d get a literal garbage bag full of mail from me. He was in Okinawa, Tinian, Philippines, Guam. When he was in Okinawa we could talk on the phone.  Sometimes I’d drive to the base to be able to have video chats (this was 2002 after all). I’d leave parties or friend’s houses early just to race home and be able to talk to him on the phone before he’d be out in the field for weeks.

It takes a special breed to wait and stay dedicated. The only reason I could do it that time was I had my family and friends as a support system. I lived in Hawaii (where I grew up) and my routine wasn’t demolished by his absence. When his next big deployment to Iraq rolled around in 2007, we had moved to North Carolina. I had no support system I had a few friends, no family and was looking for work after graduating college. I couldn’t do an indefinite deployment. I just couldn’t do it. 

I’ll never forget what that marriage taught me. I watch those videos because I can relate to what I see in their eyes. The mixture of love, relief, joy. I cry when I see these reunions because I know how scared they were. When they’re gone you’re terrified all the time. At least I was. I interacted socially. I kept myself busy but I was truly afraid every minute of the day. I slept with one of his dirty PT shirts on a pillow so I wouldn’t forget his scent. I kept pictures of him everywhere so I wouldn’t forget his face. I was recording TV shows on VHS tapes to mail him so he knew he was in my thoughts.

When you have a loved one in the military and they are deployed it’s life consuming. It’s in your thoughts minute-to-minute. You have nightmares, you have intimate dreams, you talk and talk  and talk about them until people stop coming around. Then you act like you’re fine, give the semblance of normalcy, but you cry at night and when they call, you breakdown.  Hearing their voice creates a physical response. My body would shake.

Their return to your life is like a gift you never thought possible. I tricked myself into thinking him being away was normal; this was how it was going to be forever. When he was standing, in front of me, grinning, I never thought I could be so happy.

My husband now, was a submariner in the Navy when we met. We dated long distance and through his underways and when I’d see him at the airport it was that same euphoric happiness. It was the I-never-believed-this-was-going-to-happen relief. 

The military has a way of putting that finality in your thoughts. The depressing, consuming thought that This.Could.Be.The.Last.Time. It’s heart-wrenching. It’s nerve-wracking. It’s life-altering. When they return. When you see their face. When you can hug them, kiss them, smell them again. There is no greater bliss.

Military Spouse

I am a military spouse two times over. I have dealt with not seeing a loved one for long periods of time. I have felt my heart race while standing in a crowd of hundreds, eagerly awaiting the bus to unload or the plane to arrive. I have wept with gratitude for the return of my loved one. I have written thousands of letters and emails to those missing from my life. I know what it means to be a military spouse but I also know what it means to be me.

It does take a special breed to be a military spouse. That is absolute truth. It is long months with no contact and never knowing. You spend holidays alone and intimacy is forgotten. Their schedules are erratic at best. You learn really weird acronyms that hold no place in your interactions with people who aren’t connected to the military. While being a military spouse takes a lot from someone, it is not what defines me.

My spouse’s career is not the center of my life. Yes, it dictates a lot of what we can and cannot do and I am extremely proud of my husband and all the men and women who serve in the armed forces. However, I am a wife and my husband is in the military. I am my husband’s direct support system. Being in the military comes with an entire set of rules; it comes with a code of conduct. In my first marriage, I learned a lot of useless things that does not translate to non-military life. For instance, I learned my actions in public directly reflect my husband. That means if I act a fool in public and people can figure out who my husband is, he could get in trouble. I learned that while my husband is in uniform I walk on his left side and we link arms instead of hold hands. I learned that if your grandfather was a “high up” officer in the military that Marines will salute your car because of its military sticker. I was proud of these things I learned. It made me feel connected; it made me feel a part of the military. But, I never enlisted; I never signed my life away for an allotted number of years. This was not *MY* life these are just rules that I had to follow because of my husband’s life.

Being in the military is an honorable thing, you are a great asset to America and I will support you best that I can. When I was young during my first marriage (I was married at 18) I was very into my husband’s career. I used the term “married to the Corps” because I rarely saw him. The first year of our marriage I spent maybe 3 months with him. Due to the Stop Loss, he re-enlisted and didn’t deploy for long periods of time anymore just a month or two here and there several weeks in the field and duty. His schedule was irregular and as I grew into myself the Marine Corps became less and less important to me. As my husband and I grew apart I began to see the military for what it was in regards to marriage. It was a difficult life that challenges you in every way conceivable. 

Enlisting in the military is a choice, just as marriage is a choice. I have chosen to love and honor my husband, to stand by his side through thick and thin. I hold no such loyalties to the military. It doesn’t mean I am any less grateful or any less proud. It doesn’t mean I don’t support my husband, I don’t cry when he leaves or that I am “okay” with deployments. I am a woman who is very much in love and very proud of her spouse regardless of his career.

In December, my husband will be getting out of the Navy. While a part of me is hesitant of this decision because of the economy, I love my husband and will love him no matter what his profession. If I made enough to carry the bulk of the bacon, I would happily make him a stay at home dad. As a happy, loving wife I could not conceive of forcing my husband into a uniform. I would never want my husband to feel trapped in a job or a career simply because I wanted him to or because he feels it’s the only option. The downfalls of him getting out are we lose out on a pretty hefty “re-enlistment bonus,” we lose amazing medical care and we count our pennies. All of this is inconsequential to my husband’s happiness and how his happiness will infect me.

This time next year we may be living out of his mom’s house in Boston but at least my husband won’t be out to sea with no communication for 3 months and at least at the end of the day he can smile and know that his wife loves him and trusts him and will be by his side no matter what wicked things may come.