tear-stained hope

January 1st, 2012

As people slept from an exhaustive night of partying, my husband and I awoke at 3:30am.  The day was here; mid-tour Leave had come to an end.  Just as a new day started and a new year commenced...the past 2 weeks were a blurred dream.  No time to sulk though.  We zipped up his bags, embraced in the eerie quiet, and stepped out into the dark.  The street lights lit the way to our frozen vehicle.  I sat in the humming car and watched my breath.  Perhaps if I stopped breathing, time would stand still.  The thought was interrupted by the screeching noise outside my window.  Scrape.  Scrape. Maybe the car will remain frozen and we won't have to go.  But, then in a flash, the driver's door opened and shut. With the streets silent, we quickly made our way to the airport. 

I can do this. I can do this. A truth that not only I prepared myself to say, but a fact that I'd lived up to nearly 6 years ago and repeatedly since.  Yes, I definitely can do this.

We approached the ticket counter - me in my heels and my husband in his boots. He stood out at the airport. His uniform portrayed honor, but somehow, simultaneously provoked sadness. Two weeks ago, our airport reunion warranted stares of hope. Onlookers could see a happy reunion in the making.  A moment in time filled with joy.  Today was different though.  Today was quiet.  Today, we were to kiss goodbye and part ways.  I can do this. The lady behind the counter printed his ticket and handed me a companion pass. God bless her. 

With coffee in hand, we sat together in silence. What was there to say? And, what was there to say that wouldn't be heard by the crowd peering over their shoulders? Silence was easier. 

It was harder this time. Maybe it was the sentiment of it being the first day of the year.  Or, maybe it was the fact that we had the longest part of the Deployment ahead of us. Either way, it was harder.  When he first left in the Autumn, I cried till my eyes swelled shut. But, I also had so much to do (preparing for a move and a cross-country drive), so my mind had to focus and therefore my tears could only last so long. I also knew that Christmas was around the corner and I'd soon be reunited with my Love. However, this goodbye brought a sense of fear; unknown.  Yes, our faith-filled hearts felt fear.  It was definitely harder this time. 

He looked at the Gate and back at me. Tears reddened his eyes. Crap. I was being so strong up until now. I can do this. We can do this. I smiled up at his solemn face. I reminded him of how proud I was of him and how God had been so faithful in our lives. We can do this. Why? We can do this because we have grace to face this mountain.  We can do this because we are facing it together; because we face it with Christ as our hope.  We can do this because we have to do this. He smiled in agreement. A soft kiss tingled my lips. It was time to say goodbye. 

With the plane just beyond the glass - my sweet, sensitive, caring husband kissed me one last time.  He then slung his bag over his shoulder.  Right then his face changed. It was time for him to be a soldier. He turned towards the Gate and disappeared down the ramp.  I stayed at the window until the plane departed. Half of my heart was just beyond reach and I wasn't about to walk away before watching it take flight. So I waited. Alone. So very alone. Please dear God, keep him safe in Afghanistan. And, please - please, give me grace. 

I made my way back home in a daze. I climbed the stairs, turned the key in the door, and fell heavily onto the bed. Now I could cry. Now I could weep.  And, that is exactly what I did. With my eyes swollen, once again, I drifted to sleep. 

Winter sun flooded through the window and woke me from my grief. I can do this. I knew I would be okay. I knew that I would have joy again. I laughed mockingly at myself as I remembered it was the first day of the year. Ha! What a crazy year this surely would be.  I confidently smiled at myself, for somehow I knew that though there was grief today, tomorrow would bring hope -- of that I was sure.