Confessions of a Military Wife (22 page)

We have this rule in our family: Jon is not allowed to be funny because when he tries too hard it comes out really mean and sarcastic. He just does not possess comedic timing. I am the funny one, and he is the sensible one with all the brains. It works for us.

Anyway, I had no idea what this gift was. It had a handle that extended out about two feet. At the end was a pair of pinchers with rubber stoppers. When you pulled the “trigger,” the stoppers pinched together.

I still didn’t get it.

What did this claw have to do with me?

My husband stood there beaming from ear to ear. “Look, this is amazing,” he said. “Now, you can reach anything while I am gone. You won’t have to worry about not having me around to reach for something.”

Granted, I am five feet tall and fall constantly as I climb the base housing counters trying to get a dinner plate down, but this wasn’t what I expected from my husband about to leave on deployment. I started to cry.

Maybe I was crying because on some level I realized how much I really depended on my husband to reach things for me. Or maybe it was because I expected something romantic and I had gotten something … practical.

Ok, I was pissed and refused to use the claw.

My anger was not directed at this crazy contraption. It simply symbolized how much I needed Jon. Worst of all, it made the deployment too real.

My husband was devastated by my reaction. He had put so much thought into this gift and I was acting insulted.

In my pre-deployment state of mind, I could not see that Jon was simply being practical. That was his way of being thoughtful. He was thinking about how to take care of me, even when he was gone.

Jon became defensive—like he needed to prove how amazing this gift was. Over the next few days anytime I asked him to reach for something, he would bring that damn claw and use it.

I went nuts! I threw the claw in the garage and vowed NEVER to touch it or depend on it EVER! Every time I banished the claw, it found its way back into the house. Once Jon left, however, the claw remained in the garage.

About two months into the deployment at one of my infamous Bunco / patio parties, someone was jumping on my trampoline and threw a pack of smokes on the roof.

It was dark, but we could see the cigarettes. But no one could reach them. We were all freaking out. That was the only pack of smokes for five girls. No one was crazy or drunk enough to climb on the roof. Still, we needed to find a way to snag those smokes.

You guessed it. I gave in and used the claw to grab something out of my reach. I did find solace in the fact that I had to use it to retrieve cigarettes and not something … practical.

LEAVE ALREADY!

The clock is ticking. Your husband has completed all the work up training and has taken his pre-deployment leave.

You did the trip to see the family and now it’s quality time for the two of you. You stare at him sitting on the couch next to you, or maybe in bed beside you. This man is caressing you gently, lovingly staring into your eyes.

This thought keeps coming into your mind. You want to scream: “Get out! Leave already! JUST LEAVE!!! Let my countdown until you come home begin!”

At the same time, you feel shame and guilt because you’ve started to pull away. And you begin to hate yourself for reacting to him this way. You just can’t seem to connect with him.

Please understand. This is a normal reaction! It’s your self-defense mechanism. You are starting to detach and mentally prepare for life without him. I know because I felt the same way before both of Jon’s deployments. Fortunately, my husband understood.

Right before Jon’s second deployment we had a really rough day filled with fighting, crying, and tension. We were afraid these would be the last days we would have together.

We prayed together. We asked God to get us through these next months.

That day we saw the biggest rainbow. Here is the thing. It seldom rains in Southern California. And there in front of us was God’s promise.

We hugged each other and I cried again. The tension was finally gone so we could enjoy our last few moments together.

Just know that you can think or feel anything, but it’s your actions and words that matter. Even if you don’t want to be close or intimate, do it anyway!

Eventually, you will be able to let your guard down and enjoy the tenderness of those moments.

While it takes more effort to connect during this time, you will regret pushing him away. Savor each moment.

THE CONVERSATION

There’s another topic that needs to be addressed: SGLI, which is government-issued life insurance automatically provided to military personnel.

In the event of death, the next of kin can receive about $500,000. But you need to ask yourself if this insurance policy is enough. You have to decide based on the dynamics of your family.

Here’s the point: you need to discuss it.

I know you don’t want to release such thoughts into the universe, but you need to be realistic and prepare for the worst.

Whether your husband is deploying to a war zone or just a MEU (Marine Expeditionary Unit, deployment served on ship), you need to prepare a will as well as discuss what you would do if he does not return home.

I heard one tragic story about a widow who discovered her husband had not purchased additional life insurance before he left. In addition to learning this, she found out he had made his alcoholic, compulsive gambling mother the beneficiary of half of the funds. The widow was left with only $250,000 to take care of their four children.

Do
not
let
this
happen
to
you
. Have the conversation.

One day during his second deployment, Jon was thrilled to hear the words “mail call!” He had been in a very dangerous situation throughout the day and was finally feeling safe. Although he was miserable and starving, Jon was happy to have a letter from me.

He ripped it open expecting to find my comforting words that would lift his spirit and sweep his heart back homeward. Instead, the letter was one line with another sheet attached: “I think you need more life insurance. Sign here and mail back.”

Jon was devastated. “Well,” he exclaimed, “my wife’s betting against me!”

He showed it to the other Lieutenants, who thought it was hysterical.

Now, as in today, I think it’s funny, but I can only imagine how Jon must have felt when he opened it. I realize now we should have had that conversation
before
he left.

If you do have to mail a similar letter to your lover, at least include some homemade cookies.

Here is another serious issue that needs to be addressed: children.

If you have kids, it’s best to involve a neighbor or your closest living relative when you decide what to do with the kids in an emergency. You need to discuss with them what to do with the kids if you are involved in an accident or are killed while your husband is deployed.

And be sure to put in writing your wishes about who will be responsible for your children in your absence.

It is also important to explain to your extended families the procedures to be taken in the event of a death or injury of a service member. That way, you won’t have to deal with panicked emails and phone calls each time the news reports are bad.

I find it difficult to believe I was twenty-four when Autumn and I talked about what we would do if our spouses didn’t return. We realized some of our civilian friends with children didn’t even have wills. Nor could they understand why we were preparing for war or that I could even consider life without Jon.

For my part, I couldn’t fathom how they could be so irresponsible as to not prepare for their children.

I am proud that my husband honored me by having these uncomfortable, brutally honest conversations.

Every night and day of Jon’s deployments, I imagined riding our motorcycle together and going to the beach when he got home. I saw it in my mind’s eye and felt it in my heart.

This is my advice. Prepare for everything you can, then continue to think and dream about your life together.

Chapter Six

DEPLOYMENT

Some families want to go with their service man to the departure site and wait till the last bus rolls out. Some prefer to say goodbye at home.

I had heard stories of wives who would take their husbands down to the ship where these stupid reporters would surround them. As they said their last goodbyes, some dipstick reporter would shove a camera into the wife’s face, look into the camera, and say, “Ma’am, your husband is going to the Middle East to face guerilla warfare. He may never come back. What are you going to do while he is gone?”

Later you see this mortified woman’s face plastered across the TV screen looking so frightened. What did the reporter expect her to say? “GEE, I think I’ll go to Disneyland!”

These reporters can be such idiots, turning this final intimate moment into a complete nightmare.

On the other hand, I have also heard amazing stories of friends waving to their husbands from the dock as their husbands stood on the deck of the ship waving back. They blew kisses and watched the ship float off into the horizon.

I sought out the advice of Mary, my Marine Corps mom, for my husband’s first deployment “goodbye.” Her advice resonated with me.

“Mollie, say goodbye at home as if it were any other work day. Do not treat it any differently. This will help with the regularity of the day. When he gets to his departure point he is a Marine, and he needs to be a Marine. Let him focus on what he needs to be doing and the deployment ahead. Let him say goodbye to you at home, and leave that memory there with you.”

My husband did one deployment on an MEU and one when he flew straight over.

I handled both our goodbyes the same. Both times we said goodbye in the bedroom early in the morning. Then a friend would drive him to the departure site.

He left his pack by the front door where I would not see it when he left. With his uniform on, he kissed me goodbye in bed just like he did every other morning before he left for work.

I vividly remember the stage of deployment when I hit rock bottom. I was eating raw cookie dough, shopping on QVC, and hitting on the toothless bagger at the commissary. And that was just the first day!

Honestly, I was in shock that first week.

It finally sank in as I was doing the laundry at the end of the week. I washed all his clothes, folded them, and put them away. That first week I left his shoes around the house. Then there were papers and magazines. I was still picking up after him.

But after I put everything away, I realized I was done picking up after him for seven months. There would be no more little reminders of him in our home.

I finally crashed after I washed our bed sheets. I would hug and smell his pillow. For the first week I would sleep on his side of the bed just so I could smell him. I put off washing the sheets for the longest time.

That was always the saddest part of both deployments. When the clutter that I had bitched about everyday was finally put away, I was face-to-face with the reality that he was gone from our home.

The war got underway around the third month of my husband’s first deployment. It was March 20, the day before my birthday. To my horror, our nation was now at war in Iraq, and my husband’s platoon was in the thick of it.

Jon was unusually upbeat when he called on St. Patrick’s Day. He gave me the news that he was off the ship and in Kuwait. While I was nervous, his happy spirit and positive attitude calmed me down.

By the end of the call I was feeling very loved and peaceful. Natalie and Kat told me their husbands had also called that night. I found out later the guys had made those calls to us knowing they were headed into battle.

As the war raged on TV, I knew Jon was in the midst of it. Watching the helicopters land on Iraqi soil, and hearing about the terrible things happening there was terrifying for me. This was the beginning of both of our personal hells.

This man, who was so much a part of my life, was no longer around. And I wasn’t even sure he was coming back. I had a life with him—a future, a present—but we were now in limbo. He was fighting, risking his life every minute of every day, and there was nothing I could do for the man I loved. I felt helpless knowing that I could lose the love of my life at any moment. We had barely started our life together.

As the “Shock and Awe” campaign against Saddam’s regime continued, I went through stages of heightened emotion and sensitivity, followed by periods of numbness.

I think I watched TV for four days straight before I snapped out of it. I knew I had to stop behaving like this. Jon would not want me sitting around dwelling on the war.

While I could not help these emotions, I could stop “feeding” them. Slowly I weaned myself from TV and left the house. I knew it was time to live again. I thought if Jon knew my peppy upbeat personality was being held hostage by the news, he would have been upset. I sucked it up, and got back to life.

I remember one night, in particular, that was very intense. We had planned a Bunco evening at Autumn’s house.

It was just a few days into the war. When we arrived, the TV news was reporting on the fighting. We were all trying our hardest to ignore the elephant in the room when they reported a helicopter with Marines out of Camp Pendleton had crashed.

Many of the wives freaked. Natalie’s husband and Jon were in Golf Company, which traveled on CH 46 helicopters.

The reporting originated from the place that Jon had been when he called. Out of the twelve women in the room, eight of their husbands were fighting in that region.

Two of the older Captains’ wives—Melanie and Trina— took control of the situation. They stood up and declared, “That’s it! TV off! No more for the rest of the night. We are here to have fun. We are taking a break from the war.”