Take 3

Today was hard. Probably one of the most emotional days of my life. I said goodbye to my best friend for a long period of time for the third time. But as I was told by many who had done it before me, doing it with a child...well, let's just say it makes things much more complicated. The richness of joys is richer but the sorrow of separation is unlike anything I could describe.
In the past, I felt I had it harder being the one left behind in a deployment. A lot of people agree with me, including people who have experienced both being left behind and deploying themselves; deploying sucks for various reasons but being stuck with the responsibility of a home built around two or more people but maintained by one and the waiting game is not easy. But now I feel like John is the one who has it harder this time. I can't imagine being away from my baby for so long. And even thinking about him being away such a long time breaks my heart.
But I cannot explain the peace we both have experienced today and days leading up to this day. I have had moments of absolute panic where I wanted to grab the closest heavy object and break his knee cap or something to keep him from leaving me (I'm joking...I would never actually do that so don't fret, my pets...although there are those that have!). And then this peace would just wash over me and I knew I could do this. I knew I could get through it. I know only God could deliver such peace and I am grateful for it.
He was supposed to leave several days ago. We arrived all ready and all emotional...and then got the heads up that he had a few more days with us. They call this Semper Gumby. I will be truthful: I was pissed. THRILLED to have more time with him but pissed to have had been put through getting mentally and emotionally ready for the big goodbye and then having to delay it. But give me delays to say goodbye to my love any day. Don't listen to what I say...my anger is quickly diffused by relief to be with my best friend.
The actual goodbye lasted a good half hour or longer. We lingered before he had to board his bus. We fought back tears together and giggled at funny things Penelope would do. She was a constant source of joy and humor...as she always is. While I waited for him to put his stuff on the bus and give me his last goodbye kiss, I watched a weeping mother hold up a cloth doll for her child with a picture of her husband on it; they're called Daddy Dolls and P has one (as do I). They are a must for children (and children-at-heart) going through deployments. I had held it together pretty well before that. I had watched a sea of hugs and kisses unfold before me as several hundred Marines caressed their loved ones for the last time for awhile. I had watched other goodbyes. But this one...this moment right after saying goodbye to husband and father for this mother and this child...I couldn't hold it in. I lost it. To my right, I saw a little girl wiping tears from both eyes after hugging her dad while he held the rest of her siblings and mother. I don't know what I would have done if P was old enough to say, "Daddy, don't go." And I may have to cross that bridge someday and it can wait until that someday...hopefully far from here and now.
John returned from his bus and kissed us and we said goodbye. I watched from the side of the bus and waved goodbye and blew kisses for a good 20 minutes until the buses left. He had asked me to stay. My instinct is to make the goodbyes quick. My first deployment goodbye consisted of me dropping him off at the squadron. It has been my easiest goodbye and probably always will be. But I stayed until they left. P was given a free teddy bear from the USO and it kept her entertained when she grew impatient of waiting for the buses to depart. I spoke to her, more for myself than for her but I hoped that by the time she was old enough to understand and by the time we'd have to go through this again, I'd have these words down to a science that consists of me sounding very reassuring, strong, and able:
"We're going to be okay and so is Daddy. I've gone through this before. Twice. I will help you get through it too, baby."
I came home to a comforting cup of coffee with my mom (is there anything better than mom and coffee?), a homemade scone and clotted cream, and good conversation. Somehow, it was alright. It felt like he was only going to be gone for a week. Or a month. Like before. That's not so bad. We can do a week or a month. We've done them many, many, many times before. Hopefully, these next several weeks and months will pass quickly.
There is that peace again. That unexplained peace that washes over in waves just when I want to panic. We're going to be okay.
We love you, John and Daddy.
Deployment #3, let's do this.

Photo: Meself