…in a care package. I love to send my husband care packages. I guess that’s because I feel like I’m doing something for him even though he’s really far away. Sometimes they are filled with things he asked me to send him, and sometimes they are filled with things so that he knows we are thinking about him and missing him here. Those are my favorite kind of care packages to send- the ones filled with love.
I just sent him one today. I can’t tell you what was in it (yet!) since he may read this post, but I put a lot of thought into it. So much so that I had it planned out before he even left. I wanted to make sure he got a package shortly after arriving at his FOB (Forward Operating Base) so that he knew we were thinking about him. In fact, I even tucked a card into his luggage for him to find while he was traveling- to let him know that the second he left our arms was the second we wished he was in them again.
But I digress. I went to our little Post Office on base (when I say little, I mean its the size of a dorm room) and smiled at the lady at the counter who is there every.single.day. Little did I know that I would be leaving there with a heavy heart. I put my packages on the counter as she dotted the i’s and crossed the t’s on the customs forms. I paid and signed the credit card slip (thanks for paying for your own packages, honey!). Then the hard part came- she took the packages into the back.
Now, I have to say I knew that part was coming next. After all, I just paid a stupid amount of money to get them shipped to a far off country thousands of miles away (I will never understand the amount of postage we have to pay for a small box to be sent someplace). But what I didn’t expect was my heart to feel like someone squeezed it with a juicer. Tears welled up in my eyes as she offered to get the door since I had our behemoth of a stroller with me and I quickly ducked my head, said thank you, and practically ran out of there. So what’s with all the emotion?
Its because the act of sending him a care package sent me a message- he’s gone. He’s gone and he’s not coming back for a long time. I’ve had quite a few of these moments in the past couple of days though and still the same reaction occurs- tears. Not sobbing tears but watery eyes and a closed up throat. Like when I open the garage and see our other car sitting there. Like when I finish putting the baby to bed and there is no hum of the tv downstairs. Like when I’m doing the dishes and I can hear the fan running upstairs and I realize that I left it on, not that James is getting ready for bed. All of these little things remind me that he’s not here. And its lonely.
But we will get through it. We are a tough breed. When I sent that care package, I sent a little piece of my heart. And I will continue to send little pieces over the months. The best part, though, is that the day he comes home will be the day my heart is whole again. So keep those pieces safe baby, and come home to us soon.