Sweet Albina

Little sweet Albina: 

If I could give you a home, I would.
If I could I could afford to take you, I would. 
If things were different, I would bring you here. 

You deserve a family.  You deserve all the love in the world. 

Maybe someone else will see this.  Maybe your next mommy & daddy will see this wonderful post and bring you home. 

Unwashed Sweatshirts

It still smells like you.

The sweatshirt I didn't wash.

I inhale your scent.

Stick my face right in it.

The tears flow easily.

They run down my cheeks

and into the fabric.

I think about how you would laugh.

You would tease me.

Because now I can't smell anything

through my stuffed up nose.

never you (follow-up)

My last post was about how I instinctively think that my husband is texting me whenever my phone alerts.  I understand that his cell phone does not work overseas and it is not possible for him to text message me.  Nonetheless, I always think it's him and my heart sinks when I see that it is not.  I'm not sure if I will ever get used to this.

Apparently he read my blog entry because today I received a text message from a random number (sent from a computer).  It had his name attached to it and it simply said:

"Because I love you."

He's such a good man. 

never you

Every time my cell makes that sound

(Bing)

The text message noise

I think it's you.

Every single time. 

I expect to see your name
across the bright screen.

But it's never you.
Never.

The Story of Us

It was the winter of 2004.

At the time, I was going to school and working as an EMT at a private ambulance company.  I arrived for my shift and looked at the crew assignments for the day.  There was a name I didn't recognize.

I turned to my friend and questioned, "Who is [this]?"
Having worked there longer, she responded, "Oh, he just got back from Iraq. He is [the boss'] son."

And that was the first time I heard about my future husband.

We met that day and the flirting began almost instantly.   I thought he was sexy, funny, and mysterious.  It didn't really matter to me that his father was technically one of my bosses.  Perhaps it should have but I barely thought twice about it.  We purposely sat next to each other while hanging out in the base.  He let me start an IV on his arm.  I stole his hat like a giddy school girl and I may have even threatened to use the pacemaker pads on his chest (I was smoooooth, I know).

This continued for a few weeks and everyone noticed our disgustingly nauseating displays of admiration.  I told my friends that I liked him but I needed "a forum" in which to make my move.  It was never going to happen in the workplace.

Then came the company holiday party.

My friends and I beautified ourselves in the hotel room and made our way down to the reception. As I got to the top of the steps, I looked down, and saw him standing there at the bottom.  He looked at me, I looked at him, and well...the rest is history.

The Hardest Day

I sit here in front of my computer trying to write about something that there are no words to describe.

I can tell you about the weekend.  I can tell you that we laughed together, cried together, and hugged more tightly than we have ever hugged before.  I can tell you that I shed more tears than I ever have and that we said "I love you" enough times to fill a novel. 

But I just can't describe it.

The emotional response to saying goodbye to your husband as he leaves to go to war is truly unimaginable. 

I have never felt such panic, such fear, and such loneliness in my life.  As I watched the hotel lobby doors close behind him, I wanted to jump out of my car and run back inside.  I wanted to scream to him not to go.  I wanted to drag him out, drive off into the horizon together, and never look back. 

But I didn't.  I turned the car keys, took a deep breath, and I drove away.  Alone.

I had been thinking about this day for months - imagining what it would be like and how I would react.  I had wondered whether I would be okay and whether I would be as strong as I hoped.  Well, the months turned into weeks and the weeks turned into days and then all of a sudden the moment was upon us. 

We said our goodbye and it broke my heart.  But as I drove away, I felt relief.  The day had finally passed and the journey had begun.

I went home and I re-read the wedding vows that he said to me on a wonderful October day:

In Yiddish it translates to "geyn mit mir."

In Gaelic it's "shool lih-um."

In the very beginning I asked you to walk with me.

I had no idea where that walk would take us.

Our walk isn't always easy. Sometimes we trip, and sometimes we stumble.

There are times when there is great distance between us, but that only brings us closer together.

Many days it might seem like an uphill climb, and I might need a little extra help.

I want you to be the One to give me that push.

Some days you might need a little extra support. 

I want to be your crutch. 

Failing that, I will carry you.

I still don't know where this walk will take us.

All I ask is that you walk with me.

This deployment will just be one small stretch of our walk together. 

A wise man (my husband) once said, "This is tough, but we are tougher."

We will be stronger for this.

We will make it.

We will be okay.

Snores

3:46 AM

Darkness.

I watch the clock as it changes.

3:47 AM

I lay between them.

My husband to my left and my dog to my right.

The silence is broken by simultaneous snores.

It's like a band - an orchestra.

3:48 AM

I look over at my husband.

He sleeps peacefully.

I run my hands over his back.

"Remember this," I think.

Soon the band will be a solo.

Just me and the dog.

One snore.

At least while I'm awake.

3:49 AM

I close my eyes.

I listen to the music of my family.

I try to imprint it deep into my brain.

This moment.
This sound.
This warmth.
This love.

I smile and I drift off to sleep.

3:50 AM

Three snores.

Deployment Party Success

For the past several weeks I have been a part-time party planner.  My husband is leaving quite soon and we felt that it was important to send him off in style.  I know that having a deployment send-off party isn't exactly a universally desired event, but my husband really wanted to have one.  He has fond memories (or should I say lack of memories?) of his previous deployment party and it was meaningful to have his friends and family get together before he left. We did not want any old party for this deployment - we wanted to have a PARTY.

I experienced nothing but generosity and support during the planning process.  I rented out an American Legion Hall because we were anticipating a large number of people and wanted to have space to socialize.  The American Legion gave us the hall for a minimal fee (because of the nature of the event).  We hired one of my husband's old high school classmates as a DJ for the event.  He gave us a great deal and he was wonderful.  For food, I called a local bar and explained that my husband is a firefighter in town and is deploying overseas.  The manager dropped the catering menu off at my house, told me not to look at the prices listed, and ended up giving me the most ridiculous discount on food for 125 people.  Family and friends supplemented with some pot luck as well.

Even amidst all this generosity, I never expected the email that I received late one evening.  Tears filled my eyes as I read that the union and relief association from my husband's fire department wanted to give me a check to help pay for the party. 

$1000.00

I was and still am speechless about this.  I was able to do so much more with this party than I had ever imagined.  During a time when we are feeling particularly strapped financially, I was able to throw a huge event with minimal out of pocket expenses.

The party was absolutely fantastic.  There were so many people there and it really warmed my heart.  Everyone ate, drank, danced, and socialized.  It was exactly what we wanted it to be - a celebration. 

I set up a table where guests could write a note to my husband - words of encouragement, jokes, stories, or whatever they wanted to write.  I promised not to read them (they are sealed in envelopes) and I will be mailing these to him periodically throughout the year.  This was a big hit and I have a stack of notes just waiting to be sent overseas. 

I wasn't sure if I would feel sad during the party but I actually didn't. In truth, I felt incredibly and overwhelmingly happy.  I felt so grateful for the presence of my family and friends and the love of my husband.  I cannot tell you how many times people hugged me, told me that they were there for me, and offered to help me through the year.  I swear that every firefighter in attendance instructed me to never hire a plumber, an electrician, or a handyman and to just call the fire station for help with any problem.  This made me feel safe and I think it made my husband and my parents feel relieved as well. 

I am so blessed.

I've spent the weekend nursing a hangover but it was worth it! 

Now I just have to start thinking about the homecoming party ;)

This Life

I didn't choose this life.
This life chose me.

A man walked into my life.
He just walked in.
He was kind.
He was strong.
He was funny.
He was sexy.
He was right.

I did not sign up for this.
He signed up for this.
I just fell in love.

I fell into a life of sacrifice and compromise.
A life of worry and fear.
But I fell into a life of friendship and support.
A life of respect, love, and affection.

I just fell.

I didn't choose this life.
This life chose me.

But if you ask me to choose,
I choose this life.