Day 1; Cry Me a River

Welcome inside my mind.  Today, day one of the absence of my son, started with tears, fears, and downright depression.  Yesterday, my son, a 1st lieutenant in the U.S. Army, was deployed.  As we sat at Starbucks before reporting to the base, he told me that his deployment could last up to 400 days, but he hoped it would not be that long. 

400 days. 

It didn't seem that long ago that my son was in grade school, preparing to leave for a week-long camp with his 5th grade class.  It was the first time he would be away from home for days with no communication.  I stood with my girlfriend and watched as our two sons boarded the schoolbus.  She had a smile on her face; I was devastated.  She was looking forward to the week with joy; I was dreading each day.  Of course, our sons were quite different.  Her son's absence was looked upon as a break, while my son's absence would be a huge void.  She looked over at me and actually laughed as tears streaked down my face.  I wanted to follow the bus in my car and peer through the fence at my son, hoping to get a glimpse of him in the coming days.  Silly, I know, but when your kid is that wonderful, it's hard to let go. 

Many times since then, I've had to "let go" -- college was quite difficult.  My husband and I helped my son to move into his dorm room, and after the last box was carried into the room, they high-fived and laughed, while I stood at the car, crying.  "Don't worry Mom, I'll be fine," he said.  I wasn't worried about him; I was worried about me.  I was a wreck.  Letting go of him again. 

It's all part of the plan.  Kids grow up.  I get it.  I just don't want to accept it.

Back to yesterday.  Our conversation over coffee at Starbucks was brief.  I tried making small-talk, as I really didn't know what to say to my son.  Uh, good luck...  Kick some ass over there...  Don't forget to brush your teeth before you go to bed (of course, I didn't say any of those things).  He was disengaged.  He apologized for not focusing on our conversation.  He had a lot on his mind.  He said he was anxious to leave.  Anxious to leave...  I excused myself and went to the ladies room.  I talked to myself in the mirror and tried not to cry but seeing my face on the verge of tears, my reflection won out and I burst into tears.  I quickly patted my eyes with a wet paper towel and returned to the table.  "Let's go," I said.  What I really meant was "Let's get this over with."  He made me sit down and said, "You're handling this a lot better than I expected."  That did it.  Waaaaaaah.  I shook my head and said, "No I'm not," and noticed people looking over at our table.  We left Starbucks and headed to the base. 

Now the question was, do I park and walk with him to the tarmac area, or do I drop him off at the curb?  I asked him this question.  He suggested the drop off.  Okay, I anticipated that.  Probably better this way for both of us.  I pulled over and we asked a soldier's wife if she would take our picture.  It was rushed, forced.  A crappy building with rust stains was our background.  It would have to do.  He hugged me, I told him I loved him, he told me he loved me, and then he walked away.  It was like boarding that schoolbus all over again, 100-fold.  I sat in the car for a good 5 minutes and sobbed. 

As I was pulling away, my cell phone rang.  "Go park, and come meet me inside the gates," he said.  "Really?" I replied, incredulously.  "Really."  I parked and tried not to run inside the gate.  There were soldiers and their family members congregating inside the gate.  Some were hugging, others were taking photos.  Many of the soldiers were smiling, laughing, seemingly having a great time.  I asked my son why the soldiers seemed so happy.  He said they were anxious to deploy, as they had been planning this for months and were ready to go.  We took more photos.  I felt like I was surrounded by greatness.  These wonderful, selfless, brave and patriotic men and women were anxious to serve our country.  It was awe-inspiring. 

The plane arrived and it was time for the company to line up for boarding.  I didn't want to make another spectacle of myself sobbing and felt it was time for me to leave before I watched him climb those stairs...  We hugged again, and I said goodbye to my boy. 

Today, Day 1, had no less tears shed than yesterday.  Each time I mentioned to someone that my son had left, the sentence was finished with fresh tears streaming. 

My son sent me a few text messages today from his cell phone.  He realizes that even though he and his fellow soldiers are making the ultimate sacrifice by putting their lives in danger, their families are making sacrifices as well.  We are mothers, fathers, spouses, siblings, friends, children -- just saying a prayer and hoping God will bring them all safely back home to us.