Reuniting Part III

Since that moment it’s been a rollercoaster of emotions. I’m so glad that I made the trek out there (though coming home I was EXHAUSTED). It was worth every penny. A MasterCard commercial is in there somewhere.

Now to the boys' reunion.

I returned home two days before he did, picked up the boys and decorated the house, the car and stocked the fridge. (Beer, meat and fresh vegetables.)
I didn’t think I would cry when he saw Gabe and Asher, I’d had my moment already. But as the passengers began to stroll off the plane and I hurried the boys into unrolling their banner and waving their flags, the butterflies reappeared.


His face lit up when he saw them. Asher was smiling from ear to ear and I was so glad that he recognized him, unlike leave when Asher took a few hours to warm up to him. Gabe watched Terry with a sense of awe. I think I'll let the pictures tell the rest of the story.

And I cried again.

I snapped photos and let them have their moment. It was beautiful.

****

It's the end of the deployment, but the beginning of a new life in a lot of ways. We have the adventure of working with the Veteran’s Administration, counseling, a civilian job to go back to, etc.

He is different. I am almost afraid of how he will react to being in a sterile office and a suit and tie after living in ACU’s in the desert for so long. He said he feels naked without his weapon. He has urges to run people off the road in our Durango, which he looks at with a bit of disgust for its gas guzzling characteristics and his resolve that the U.S. needs to get off oil. He’ll stare off into the distance and I wonder what he’s thinking about. I’ll catch him following me with his eyes. At first I asked, “What?” and he would just shake his head and say, “It’s just good to be with you again.” Now, I'll smile and go on with what I’m doing.

I am different. I’m a psychotic control freak about the house. God save him if he leaves the washcloth waded up in the bathroom or puts his shoes in the closet instead of by the coat rack. I stiffen when he tells me to do anything a certain way. “I’ve been alone for 15 months, I can handle it,” I’ll say. I don’t mean to be rude, but there is a mixture of anger that he left us for so long and pride that I can take care of a broken down car, a clogged garbage disposal or giant man-eating grasshoppers.

I call my neighbor. Kidding!

Seriously though, things are different. Everyone, and I mean EVERYONE, has told me that it takes 6 months to a year to get things back to "normal,"whatever that means anymore. (People offer the same amount of unsolicited advice about reuniting from a deployment as they do to a first time mom. )

Thanks for reading my rants, raves and random thoughts about deployment life. I hope you’ll keep reading as I keep writing, 'cause I already have some good post-deployment stories to tell.

I could not finish these thoughts without saying there were others in forefront of my mind. Heidi, since I know you read my blog, I'll just say that you are one of them, and Holly, you too. I thought of you both. I will never forget that you did not get the homecoming you dreamed about and probably dream of still. Though we've only had the privelege of knowing them through your shared memories, our family will never forget Sean or Tom or the rest of our soldiers. And I hope anyone who happens to stumble on my little piece of the Internet will thank EVERY single person they ever cross paths with, who has volunteered to defend the U.S. As I've said before, it's not about Iraq. We don't get paid much for what we're asked to do, but we do it anyway. The least we can do for those taken from us is speak their names and share their lives with others.