Where is the good in "goodbye"?

Goodbyes are not forever.

Goodbyes are not the end.
They simply mean I'll miss you
Until we meet again!

This morning our alarm went off at 0300. (That's three in the morning, for you non-military folks.) Half-asleep still, I pulled on the clothing that I'd set out the night before a few hours earlier. Poor little Elijah was dragged out of bed and stuffed into a sweater to help him stay warm. Bryan took a shower, shaved, and donned his uniform.

We got there at about 0400. Other families wouldn't be showing up until later, but we have only the one vehicle and there was no way my husband was going to come back to pick me up after already getting there and in 'the zone'. So I really had no choice.

There was a long time of waiting. Elijah and I waited in the car. We went into the office and waited there. Finally we went outside and waited there. By that time there were more families assembled. Tears were falling all around me, but I put on a brave face. The smile on my husband's face showed that he obviously saw it all as an adventure. I wouldn't ruin it for him.

I knew then and know now that he is not happy about leaving. His eagerness was not a reflection of any indifference to us, just an excitement for his work, for a challenge, for adventure.

The big white military buses arrived and it was time for the marines to start boarding. My stomach tightened, but I didn't cry. Maybe I'm one of those people who needs a few days for sadness to really hit home.

They started boarding; the families wept. It was almost time.

We stole a few moments together to say goodbye. This will be the longest we've been apart since being married, perhaps even since we've met.

He got on the bus, and a few minutes later they were gone.

And now I can join with my sisters all across the country in saying that half of my heart is deployed.