Jennifer’s Letter.

February 3rd, 2010 at 6:14 pm. Posted in Just Rachel.

The one wonderful thing about blogging and the internet is that moment when you read something and see something and you know, with no doubt in your mind that there is another person out there that just GETS you.  Whether you’re dealing with a breakup, trying not to pull your hair out planning a wedding, a baby that won’t stop crying, a best friend that is driving you up a wall or a deployment, you can rest assured that there is someone out there that has gone through what you’re gong through.

Since Matt’s been gone, I’ve put the internet to amazing use.  I’ve connected with wives, girlfriends and fiance’s who are going through the same thing that i’m going through.  I’ve joined networks like True Military Wives Confessions on Ning and added SpouseBuzz to my Google Reader.  SpouseBuzz is where my post today is being brought to you from.  I read this, and I found myself shaking my head with every line.

Honestly, I thought I was the only one that slept on the couch because I can’t bear to lay in our bed without him there next to me.  I thought I was the only one that cried over laundry, because there were none of his clothes to be done.  I thought I was weird because his shoes are still by the door where he left him, like he’d be coming home this afternoon.  I’m not.

If you have ever wondered what I was thinking or how I felt, what the days were like for me or how to relate… I think this letter says it all.  It’s something that brought me to tears (not that tears means anything at this point… pretty much everything brings me to tears), it’s something I could have written myself, and probably have in a few versions here on this site.

If you can, please do me a favor?  Read Jennifer’s Letter below and if not right now because it’s winter, in the spring… put up an american flag.

Editor’s note: The following is the full text of a letter written by Jennifer Chaloux to her husband, Spc. Matthew Chaloux, a Georgia National Guardsman, who was deploying to Afghanistan for a year.

When you find out your husband/boyfriend is getting deployed, your world changes completely. The man you share your life with is leaving, and there is no guarantee he will come home. Days fly by quicker than you have ever known. They are consumed with nonstop picture and video-taking, hugs, kisses and sighs because reality is too close. We try to finish projects around the house and get a quick lesson on using power tools.

It’s days on end trying not to cry too hard so you don’t make him feel bad … laying your head on his chest trying to memorize the sound of his heartbeat, the way he holds you, kisses you on the head, his laughter and his cologne. Holding his hand and not wanting to let go, not even for a second. A million kisses and hugs. Saying I love you 50 times a day and still questioning whether you have said it enough.

Doing the same paperwork six times over, knowing you’ll have to do it again.

Having that conversation no one wants to have about injuries, death and his wishes if it happens. Spending the last week together attending going-away picnics and family events for the military families, the whole time seeing smiles that conceals heartache.

Watching families hug more than they probably have in a year, and children running around oblivious of the danger that awaits their father or mother. Having moments of laughter, and the next second reality hits and tears start to flow. Watching other families before they deploy, men holding their newborn babies knowing they will miss their first giggle, word, and wonder if they will know him when he gets home. Families taking pictures of everything, no matter how trivial.

Seeing mothers treating their 40-year-old as if he was a kid again, and she always will. Trying to memorize everyone’s face and last name because when he calls he never uses their first name when he talks about them. Not being able to be there when they are promoted to show them and tell them how proud of them you are.

Attending a send-off ceremony and watching your husband and all the soldiers recite the Soldiers Creed, and feeling like you are the luckiest girl in the world to be married to a hero. Strong and proud they stand in perfect formation.

They are clearly disciplined and well-trained. It’s a side of him I have never seen, and I thought I knew everything about him.

The last day together you fight back tears every second and wonder how you can just walk away from him. You watch families around you hugging and saying their good-byes. You feel numb and every emotion all at the same time.

You struggle to walk to your car and drive away without him, only to pull over moments later to breakdown.

Your home is just a house now. Everyday revolves around thinking about him, worrying and watching the clock to calculate what time it is half way around the world. You try to stay busy, but the stress doesn’t go away. It’s a roller coaster ride, and life won’t let you get off.

Being alone some days is more comforting than forcing yourself to be in a good mood to have coffee with a friend. Friends struggle to say the right things to help, but feel helpless as well. It’s an invisible barrier that separates even family.

Doing laundry and realizing there are none of his clothes to do, and wishing there was. Setting the table for four at dinner even if there are only three of us. Sleeping on the couch for weeks because you can’t bear to sleep in your bed when he is on a cot, and it’s just not the same without him next to you. Leaving his combat boots next to the front door because it comforts you, and they won’t be moved until he is home.

Feeling guilty for enjoying a sunny day, a good movie or just a ride in the car. Avoiding phone calls because you just can’t talk about it, again. “I’m fine” is never enough, but you can’t make them understand no matter how hard you try. Alienating yourself so you don’t have to fake a smile or conversation.

Wanting to just scream and yell until you have no voice left, and wiping away those endless tears. “Snapping out of it” will take a year. Bonding with Army wives you just met, and pouring your heart out because it’s easier than telling your best friend.

Wondering if he will be the same person he was when he left and feel comfortable in his own home when he gets back. Feeling selfish for having a pity party when he has it a lot worse. Watching the news when you are told not to.

Knowing when we talk he will never tell me he had to dive under something to avoid getting hurt or he just came back from a mission that you didn’t know he went on. Not knowing who you are at the end of the day because you can’t be who you were without him.

The word “why” is the first word in everything you think about. No matter how hard you try, you’re always thinking the worst case scenario. Wanting to sleep the whole next year because it’s the only time you get a break from worrying. In reality sleep is only a couple hours here and there.

Avoiding your favorite CDs or TV shows that you enjoyed together because you have no one’s hand to hold or arms to lay in. Wearing his clothes while he is gone and using a shirt with his cologne as a pillowcase to snuggle up to.

Trying to pray double-time, but feeling like a hypocrite because right now you would be angry with God if something happens. Walking around with a lump in your throat and a pit in your stomach for the next year. Saying “thank you, he’s fine,” because if you say too much you’ll just cry, like you have done for the past four days. Truly feeling lost, scared and powerless every single day.

Just going through the motions of getting up, getting ready and going through your day clutching your phone in case he calls. When he does call you get an instant high just knowing he is okay, and trying not to forget to tell him about all things you did that day, but leaving the part out about screaming like a mad woman because the sink is leaking, your tire is going flat, the lawn needs mowing, bills need to be paid. When all is said and done, you’re proud of the woman you are and you have a girly toolbox because you decorated your husband’s tools with glitter and rhinestones.

Wanting people to understand most of the soldiers don’t want to be there either. They want peace like all of us do. Wondering why almost every house you see doesn’t have an American flag on it like after 9/11.

Wanting to tell all the people at an anti-war rally that they are there because they are free and have those rights because they live in a country protected by the military. That the people your husband encounters everyday would love to have a right to an education. When the worst happens they will want the soldiers to protect them. That every family and person who lost their life to the 9/11 attacks are being disrespected if we didn’t fight back. Don’t hate the war and the soldiers, hate the people who started the war.

Understanding the TRUE meaning of honor, pride, dedication and hero.

They are drivers in a convoy, infantry, mechanics, medics, doctors and nurses, and chaplains. Most of all, they are our husbands, wives, sons and daughters, brothers and sisters. They have a job to do and a family to take care of.

That family not only consists of a spouse and kids, but your family as well.

Display the American flag, support our troops and never forget.

There are 10 comments to this post.
Debbie said... Feb 3, 2010 @ 8:04 pm

I just sobbed my way through reading this post. Every single word of it applies to me, and I feel such relief knowing that someone else gets it too. My “real life” friends don’t, but my milwives do, and sometimes that makes me love them more than family. The military made them family. If you need to scream, I’m here too!

Debbie’s last blog post..Another rockstar moment

Lizzie said... Feb 4, 2010 @ 2:41 am

That letter is so moving, and incredibly touching. It must be incredibly hard for you <3 I obviously can't put up an American Flag 'cause I live in England but I'll definitely be thinking of you x

Andrea said... Feb 4, 2010 @ 10:56 am

“The one wonderful thing about blogging and the internet is that moment when you read something and see something and you know, with no doubt in your mind that there is another person out there that just GETS you.”

Word for word, that is why I’m a Blogger.

Lindsay said... Feb 4, 2010 @ 8:11 pm

I am wearing his clothes right now…and I left the post-it note next to our bed that says “Hey Babe, I love you and I’ll be home soon.” I understand and I’ll say a prayer for all of us tonight.

confessions of a perfectionist said... Feb 4, 2010 @ 9:40 pm

How easy it is to forget that someone out there feels EXACTLY like you do. Somehow it helps to remember that pain is universal.

I remember the night that James deployed watching families take pictures and thinking, “Why on earth would you want something to remember this moment by?” This post made me remember that sense of pride that these families carry with them, and often times that is the only consolation prize that you receive if you have a loved one in the military.

I love your raw honesty- that’s something I need to work on. :)
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Kelly L said... Feb 4, 2010 @ 10:28 pm

oh my gosh, this made me cry. i want to give you a million hugs.

Sassy said... Feb 5, 2010 @ 4:15 pm

Unfortunately, I get this too. I am so sorry you understand it as well. I wish you both well and hope that the days go by quickly for you.
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Allie O. said... Feb 6, 2010 @ 9:06 pm

I remember how much it hurt to be in a long distance relationship that was only four hours. I just…I can’t imagine. Love and hugs from me to you.
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Emily Jane said... Feb 8, 2010 @ 9:12 am

What a heartfelt, incredibly moving post. “I am wearing his clothes right now…and I left the post-it note next to our bed that says “Hey Babe, I love you and I’ll be home soon.”” I do these things just when mine goes away for a week, and I can’t imagine how difficult this must be. Sending hugs and prayers your way <3

Becka @Studio222 said... Feb 11, 2010 @ 12:57 pm

Oh Rach, I can’t even imagine. :(

xoxo
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