Putting It In Perspective

They say that you marry your father. I tease Kevin that in some ways, this is true. Usually, it's when he displays some sort of naughty humor....the type that you laugh out loud at, but know you shouldn't be laughing. But beyond that, I come from a line of military/defense wives. My Oma (grandmother) was a German schoolteacher who left her home to follow her soldier home to Michigan to build a life there, a move that so upset her family that they disowned her for a time. He later worked as a car salesman. My mom (incidentally, also a schoolteacher now) also married an army guy who, after getting out, began work a civilian defense worker, a job he still holds today. She, too, moved away from her family to follow his career. And there's me (the third in a line of schoolteachers)... I married a man whose life belongs to the the Navy, at least for the next 2 1/2 years. After that, who knows?

Something I was exposed to as a child has become more clear to me in the last couple years. The military has a (in?)famous "don't ask, don't tell" policy that tends to refer to one's sexual preference. However, I think it also applies in military (and defense) households. I'll ask, "How was your day, honey?" and receive a reply, but I'm also well aware that I don't know the whole truth. And I won't ask. Ignorance, as they say, is bliss. Besides, even if I did ask for specifics, there are always truths that will be omitted. My own mom has lived with this reality for 20 years and knows it well. To a degree, I'm learning it now. Do I really want to know what my husband does on some of his longer mystery trips? Do I really want to know his skill at various types of weapons? Do I really want the "inside scoop?" No. Absolutely not. Because if I knew everything I'd pace a hole in the floor, worrying. Sometimes, a little wool over the eyes is a good thing.

But I'm on of the lucky ones.

Reading the blog entry of another blogworld acquaintance , I began thinking of how fortunate I am to be in the situation that I'm in. With Kevin's last deployment to the Middle East, he was only there a month. A nerve-wracking month for me, but only a month nonetheless. It's a difficult time to be a military spouse, but especially so to be an Army or Marine spouse. These guys spend the most time on the front lines and, for the most part, do it willingly. The spouses left behind are torn between pride in their (most often) husbands, and fear for his safety. I'm one of the lucky ones. I've had my sailor relatively close for the last year and a half and it will be awhile before another long-term deployment comes up. When it does, I'll join ranks with all the other Navy spouses who wait 6 months for their husbands to return again. But the honest reality is, these guys are the safest. They work hard, they have dangerous jobs, we fear for them and for ourselves, but they're the safest and for that I am profoundly grateful.

I've spoken with retired Navy families who tell me, "Oh, you have it so easy! You have no idea what it used to be like. "John" would be gone for a full year and we didn't have email back then!" They're right. I do have it easy. My husband will regularly "disappear" for a week. Occassionally, he'll be gone for a month or two. And I'll miss him horribly. But I know he'll be back. Modern communication allows us to communicate fairly regularly, even from locations light years from our home. And so, yes, I have it easy. But I'd be a fool to complain. Nobody WANTS to see their partner in harm's way. Nobody WANTS to be alone for 6 months, or a year. I'm one of the lucky ones.

So I won't complain. But I will say that some of the real heroes are the families of those whose loved ones ARE gone for a year at a time. Those who hold their breath every time they turn on the morning news. Those who hold holidays until the family can be together again. Those who get down on their knees every night and pray, not for an anonymous face, but for the face loooking back at them from the picture on the dresser. Those who wait weeks and weeks for a 10-minute phone call. Those who wait for a month for letters to arrive and then read them over and over again until the words are memorized and they can put the letters away. How much more they've given up and lived through than I. And most importantly, the families that make the ultimate sacrifice and have to answer that knock at the door.

I'm lucky. And I'm grateful.