Already Gone

Life is about give and take, push and pull, ups and downs, hellos and goodbyes.  So it’s inevitable that when The Hubs comes home to visit, he’s going to have to leave again.  I know that.  It’s always the dark cloud hanging over our grand parade the entire time he’s here.  It’s our Voldemort, if you will, our “He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.”  (Yes, that was a Harry Potter reference.  Don’t judge me.)  I know, before he even steps foot on Michigan soil, the exact day that he’ll be leaving again.  So why, when he purchases his plane tickets to go back to Texas, do I always feel like I’ve just been kicked in the gut?

I knew when I woke up this morning that The Hubs is leaving in three days.  It was the first thing I thought about as I climbed out of bed.  (Well, besides how badly I had to pee.)  Still, when he sent me a text at work this afternoon containing the details of his flight, I felt my heart drop to my stomach.  I had to blink back tears as I talked logistics with him; when we would leave for the airport, what things we still have to absolutely get done before he goes.

I can’t figure out why I get so upset about something I know is coming, something I’ve been through countless times over the past two years.  The only thing I can think is that there’s a part of me that’s always waiting for a Hail Mary, a last minute save, a reprieve at the midnight hour.  As irrational as it is, I spend the entire time my husband’s home praying that he won’t have to go back.  That something will happen, some miracle will occur, and his C.O. will call him and say, “Carpenter, we’re releasing you from your contract early.  We’ll have your personal effects sent to you.  Have a nice life.”  My head knows that will never happen.  Even as I type this, my snarky alter-ego is laughing at me for thinking such ludicrous thoughts.  But my heart….

My heart has had just about as many painful goodbyes as it can handle.  My heart protects itself while The Hubs is home by going into denial, by hoping and dreaming and wishing for things that just can’t be.  And when reality hits, this time in the form of a text message saying “I’m flying out of Detroit at 8:50 Sunday morning,” it’s absolutely devastating to me. 

My husband is leaving in less than 72 hours, and once again, I have no clue when I’ll see him again.  If I were able to look at the bright side, I would remind myself that at least he’s just going back to Texas, and not overseas.  I would point out that we still have three more nights in the same bed, three more mornings to wake up together, and two and a half days left to enjoy each other and our family as much as possible.  But I’ve flipped this story upside down, inside out, left, right, and back again.  I still can’t find any “bright side”.  And I know it’s because even though my husband isn’t technically leaving for another few days, in my heart, he’s already gone.