uttered innuendo in my ear. Only seven days had elapsed since that night yet it felt like forever ago. “This past week has been… intense,” I said.
Beth’s smile faded. “Then this is extra hard for you, being so new to the relationship and all,” she said. “I went through that with Sam’s first deployment. We’d only been dating a month before he left. It was hell.” She patted my hand on the table.
“This past week has been a rollercoaster,” I said, trying to keep the tears in check. I took a steadying breath and tried a grin. “So when do you stop crying at the drop of a hat?”
“The first time took about a month, for me at least.”
I blew out a breath. “Okay. That seems like a long time,” I said. “But at least I’ll eventually stop missing him so much, right?”
She shook her head. “I think it’s more like you just get mentally tougher, so you learn to avoid dwelling on the fact that he’s gone.”
“How do I do that?”
“I’m not sure. You just do it. When you start thinking about how much you miss him, just distract yourself. Put on a movie, read a book, do anything. Just don’t give any thought to how much you miss him.”
“Does that actually work?”
She shrugged. “Sometimes.”
I didn’t hear from Henry for three long days, until the Monday after he left. I tried to take Beth’s advice and keep myself occupied but it was impossible to concentrate without knowing Henry had made it to Bagram Air Base safely. I was beginning to think I wouldn’t be able to focus on anything for the next six months.
On Monday morning, at some godawful time, my cell phone began to ring. I was instantly alert and cried into the phone, “Henry?”
“Hey, Els!” His voice felt like heaven; it caressed down my back and loosened the knot of worry around my heart. “We made it. We’re here.”
I sat up, glad to finally have some time to talk. “I’m happy to hear that. It’s so good to hear your voice.”
“You too. How are you?” he asked.
“Absolutely miserable,” I said.
“Listen, I have to get going. Other guys have to call home,” he said. “I love you, Elsie. I miss you so much already.”
“I love you too,” I responded, and much too quickly the call ended. I hugged his pillow to my chest and for the first time in so many days, I finally breathed a tiny sigh of relief. Henry was okay.
Four days down, a bajillion more to go.
The first week of deployment was definitely the toughest. The imbalance to my routine was terrifying, and I often fumbled around like I’d forgotten a step. At night I sat in the apartment, feeling so lonely I thought I’d go out of my mind and watching those sappy romcoms that Henry refused to sit through certainly didn’t help—in fact, had the opposite effect.
My body also physically ached from missing him, a feeling that was wholly new to me. After Jason died I missed him intensely but I never felt an ache in my bones, as if I was walking around with a missing limb—like I was currently experiencing with Henry.
Then it started to get better. Thankfully.
After that initial month, I finally started to sleep in my own bed again—partly because I missed my pillowtop mattress, but also because I knew I couldn’t sleep in Henry’s bed forever. It was high time I put on my big girl panties and sleep in my big girl bed.
Henry called as often as he could, which amounted to a five-minute call every four or five days, but he e-mailed almost every day. He mostly talked about the base and his job, but sometimes he’d write out long, graphic emails detailing what he wanted to do to me. Those emails would get me so aroused I eventually had to go into the back of my closet and break out my stash of battery-operated buddies.
The best part of Henry’s emails were always at the end, where he’d write that he loved and missed me, that he couldn’t wait to come home to me. I didn’t think I’d ever tire of seeing those
Beth’s smile faded. “Then this is extra hard for you, being so new to the relationship and all,” she said. “I went through that with Sam’s first deployment. We’d only been dating a month before he left. It was hell.” She patted my hand on the table.
“This past week has been a rollercoaster,” I said, trying to keep the tears in check. I took a steadying breath and tried a grin. “So when do you stop crying at the drop of a hat?”
“The first time took about a month, for me at least.”
I blew out a breath. “Okay. That seems like a long time,” I said. “But at least I’ll eventually stop missing him so much, right?”
She shook her head. “I think it’s more like you just get mentally tougher, so you learn to avoid dwelling on the fact that he’s gone.”
“How do I do that?”
“I’m not sure. You just do it. When you start thinking about how much you miss him, just distract yourself. Put on a movie, read a book, do anything. Just don’t give any thought to how much you miss him.”
“Does that actually work?”
She shrugged. “Sometimes.”
I didn’t hear from Henry for three long days, until the Monday after he left. I tried to take Beth’s advice and keep myself occupied but it was impossible to concentrate without knowing Henry had made it to Bagram Air Base safely. I was beginning to think I wouldn’t be able to focus on anything for the next six months.
On Monday morning, at some godawful time, my cell phone began to ring. I was instantly alert and cried into the phone, “Henry?”
“Hey, Els!” His voice felt like heaven; it caressed down my back and loosened the knot of worry around my heart. “We made it. We’re here.”
I sat up, glad to finally have some time to talk. “I’m happy to hear that. It’s so good to hear your voice.”
“You too. How are you?” he asked.
“Absolutely miserable,” I said.
“Listen, I have to get going. Other guys have to call home,” he said. “I love you, Elsie. I miss you so much already.”
“I love you too,” I responded, and much too quickly the call ended. I hugged his pillow to my chest and for the first time in so many days, I finally breathed a tiny sigh of relief. Henry was okay.
Four days down, a bajillion more to go.
The first week of deployment was definitely the toughest. The imbalance to my routine was terrifying, and I often fumbled around like I’d forgotten a step. At night I sat in the apartment, feeling so lonely I thought I’d go out of my mind and watching those sappy romcoms that Henry refused to sit through certainly didn’t help—in fact, had the opposite effect.
My body also physically ached from missing him, a feeling that was wholly new to me. After Jason died I missed him intensely but I never felt an ache in my bones, as if I was walking around with a missing limb—like I was currently experiencing with Henry.
Then it started to get better. Thankfully.
After that initial month, I finally started to sleep in my own bed again—partly because I missed my pillowtop mattress, but also because I knew I couldn’t sleep in Henry’s bed forever. It was high time I put on my big girl panties and sleep in my big girl bed.
Henry called as often as he could, which amounted to a five-minute call every four or five days, but he e-mailed almost every day. He mostly talked about the base and his job, but sometimes he’d write out long, graphic emails detailing what he wanted to do to me. Those emails would get me so aroused I eventually had to go into the back of my closet and break out my stash of battery-operated buddies.
The best part of Henry’s emails were always at the end, where he’d write that he loved and missed me, that he couldn’t wait to come home to me. I didn’t think I’d ever tire of seeing those
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