The following is an excerpt from a journal I kept during our most recent deployment like. This is what deployment is really like for the spouse left behind. Another excerpt can be read here. More on military life can be found here.
What is it really like to have your spouse deployed? Here’s what I wish I knew before deployment.
I’m often asked what deployment is really like. What things come to fruition that I expected, what didn’t happen, what took me by surprise, what’s hard…?It’s hard to come up with answers when I’m not living it. Once the deployment (or any type of prolonged separation) is over, the feelings and the reality of what daily living entailed becomes blurry in my mind. Knowing specific feelings and specific circumstances of deployment living would have been such a gift to me when I was a young wife, completely clueless as to what a lifestyle of routine separation would look like and feel like.
I hope I can extend that gift to someone else, now that I’ve lived and learned from years as a military spouse.
This part is painful. It catches me off guard, but also perfectly encapsulates what deployment is really like.
Something painful that catches me off guard everytime Derek has to be away for a length of time is the seeming erasure of his presence from our daily life. It happens gradually. First, he packs up his items from the medicine cabinet, leaving gaps where our nightly and morning routines were tangibly intertwined. A chunk of clothes and uniforms are gone from the closet. His boots aren’t next to the door.
After he leaves I gradually move anything he has left out of place and put it away. His notebook, his flight bag, the small pile of cough drops on his night stand–they are all sorted and stored.
In a week or so, there are no more of his clothes in the hamper. They are all clean and replaced in the drawers where he’ll use them again, but not for months. Soon after that, the foods he prefers have gone bad or I’ve eaten them, and they don’t reappear on the grocery list or in the cupboards. The smells that accompany him–his shampoo, the scent of his shaving cream, the uniform smell that clings to his flight suit–they are gone.
Eventually, the gender-neutral scented body wash we share runs out and I’ll replace it with something specifically feminine. I stop hanging the car keys up and instead keep one set in the diaper bag and one set in my purse. No one else needs to use them, or find them.
The Last Bit
A few days ago I changed the sheets on our bed. Yes, I know it’s been more than a month and maybe that’s gross. But honestly, keeping my own bed fresh has been the least of my priorities since Derek left. I both loved and hated getting into a gloriously clean bed. Everything felt so fresh, like sleeping at a hotel. But with the washing of sheets and swapping them out, it was like officially washing Derek out of our bed too.
Yes, he’s coming back. That doesn’t stop me from feeling grief in a season of my life spent with evidence of my husband’s existence removed from my daily living.
The gaps that his things left are soon filled. I leave a few more shoes of my own by the door. A few extra toiletries have migrated to the medicine cabinet. I’ve created a cocoon in the middle of our bed and my night time necessities take residence on both night stands. The hook where his towel hung is occupied by Silas’ sleepsack. The hanger that held his coat is empty and leaves extra room for another of Gideon’s sweatshirts.
It’s a visible trail of absence. It happens every time Derek leaves. I wish someone would have prepared me for it. It’s an odd feeling. I know he’ll come back and I can’t wait to push my things aside to make room again.
What is deployment really like? It’s like that.
I NEED YOUR HELP | ONE MORE THING BEFORE YOU GO…
I’m writing a book about my experience with mental health crisis as a Christian and military spouse. YOUR help will get the book published. The easiest way is click “FOLLOW” on Instagram or sign up for my monthly newsletter via email (below). Your support demonstrates interest in this story and these words of hope.
