You’d think the hardest part about a deployment or long separation is the actual separation, right?
The hardest part about a deployment is the anticipation- the countdown to departure day.
We’re at t-minus 59 days, give or take 5 days, and we’re stuck in this weird, limbo-like holding pattern. I know we should be living in the now…devouring the next 59 days like they’re our last. But it’s not quite that easy.
We are STILL waiting on dates for the movers to come and his actual no-kidding departure date, so yeah, that’s not helping.
And of course we’re dealing with PPS, or what I call pre-pack-out-sprawl. Homeskillet has started his so-called packing organization system that pretty much amounts to piles-of-crap-not-so strategically planted through out our house.
It’s just…I….seriously?! Seriously?! SERIOUSLY!? How on Earth is it possible to create that much chaos to pack just one person?! ONE.
Who doesn’t love decorative piles of uniforms, uniform accessories, civilian clothing, pro-gear, binders, odds and end linens, and scrap pieces of paper filled with checklists?
Yeah, me neither.
Everywhere I look it’s just another reminder that someone is going to leave a gaping Homeskillet shaped hole behind him.
I didn’t have to deal with this last time. Last time, I only saw a few days of packing thanks to the oh-I’m-not-leaving-for-two-months-my-bad-I’m-leaving-next-week deployment. It sucked, but it only had to suck for about a week.
Well, with no departure date in sight and no movers scheduled, everything feels kind of well, unfinished. We can’t even think beyond his departure date because we have no idea how time differences and ops tempo are going to affect how we communicate as a family or if it’s feasible for us to travel to see him during his tour.
As a planner, I hate it. I hate not being able to look three or four months down the line and say “THIS is what we’re doing”, but it’s kind of the way things work for military families. I’m working on being okay with this every damn day.
EVERY. DAMN. DAY.
Waiting for departure day is like slowly ripping off a band-aid that permanently adhered itself to your skin because you left it on way too long.
You feel each and every tug and pull, but instead of it being your skin, it’s your heart slowly tearing itself apart day after day.