Goodbye
4 Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. 5 It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. 6 Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. 7 It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, and always perseveres. This certain verse kept running through my head and I watched him pack his things. I must be patient, we can get through anything. I love this man. He is my soul mate and I must support him in every decision he makes. All these things starting rushing to my head, What if he loves someone else? What if he doesn’t come home? I love this man. I love this man. He looked up at me once and sad took over his face. He asked me if I’ll miss him and then tears poured from my eyes. He stopped unpacking and came over to the edge of the bed where I was at, he sat down and started to tear up and said “You’re strong without me and December 25, 2014 will be here before we know it. This is something I must do.” I nodded my head knowing what he was saying is true.


He stopped unpacking for the rest of the night we just watched movies and cuddled for the last time for 2 years. We lay there and fell asleep. I woke up with him gone from the couch. He was packing again. I don’t understand why all this packing time. He will be wearing camouflage for the next two years so why does he need colored shirts and stuff like that. I never asked just started a pot of coffee and went to go take a shower.

We met in High School. Went to different schools his was about 30 minutes from mine, maybe a little less. We met through some friends and have been together since. He never yells and is always gentle and that’s probably why I love him a little more than I have anyone else. I finished my shower and got ready for the day. I went into our bedroom where he was still packing. He finally finished within the next 30 minutes; He wrote down his address and told me he would write first. He went and took a shower and got dressed and came into the living room where I was staring at our pictures from our wedding day, just a month ago. He wrapped his arms around my waist and hugged me tight. He let go and put his jacket on over his off brown shirt. It was becoming so real to me. I just stared at him. Basic wasn’t as long as two years just a couple months. But now he is leaving for Afghanistan, across the world. He sat on the porch swing tying his boots, His combat boots.

We got into the car. It was chilly outside just the beginning of November. I drove my husband to the airport where I would be dropping him off and never seeing him for two years. The person I have been inseparable with since the 11th grade is now leaving for 2years. I think I keep repeating all this stuff because I cannot get over how depressed I am going to be. How sad this makes me.

As the first six months pass, we have wrote so many letters back and forth some long some short sometimes I would get them within 3 days some within9 days and some within 3 weeks. Its just depends on if they’re moving. If it’s possible I think I have fallen more in love with him. He wrote me and told me he won’t be able to write for awhile. I waited as 2 months passed and he didn’t write me. Finally he wrote me and said how much he misses me and describing how horrible it is over there.

A week passed no letter. I started to get worried not too much it One week from when I sent my letter and no reply. I called my mother and she said not to worry he’ll write he was coming home in one month! I can’t believe we have made it! Two years without him and I could see him in 30 days. I waited around some more asking the mailman to give it right to me when he saw where it was from. I waited another week. I was looking in the mailbox every hour just to see if the mail man forgot to leave it in my mailbox and had to bring it back. But every time I looked I was disappointed. Nothing was there. One day I woke up with a gut feeling, a bad one. I did my normal morning routine when I heard a knock on my door. A knock that wasn’t from the little girl down the road who wanted to see my garden, it wasn’t a knock from the elderly lady across the street that needed sugar. This knock was the most serious rhythm knock I have ever heard.