There is something that is deafeningly quiet about our home now. I feel the absence of him in a way unlike any I've felt thus far. Having him here for that short time had this quality of infusing him into this place. I can't hardly open my eyes in our apartment, our truck, or our town, without seeing him. His gloves are sitting on the passenger seat of the truck and his clothes are in the dirty laundry basket. I took the dogs to the park earlier this week and all I could see were my memories of him playing and running around with our dogs, Whiskey and Gunner. We were really a family for those two weeks. It was Nathan and me and our two boys and the world was just as it should be. Now it is just me and the dogs, our boys, and all is no longer as it should be.
I just watched the movie that we saw on our last date before Nathan left Vermont. We had been together eight days and I remember crying in his truck in the parking lot after the movie. I remember the feeling that a part of me was leaving and I would never be whole again. The problem with that feeling is that it is only magnified by our marriage and the growth of our bond. Today I miss him in a way I never thought possible. I've been hurt before and I've gone through things that caused a lot of pain but never have I been so vulnerable to someone else. Nathan touches parts of me that I didn't know I had. He has become a part of me and I feel so exposed and so lonely without him.
It breaks my heart to think of where Nathan is tonight. I know that he is sleeping in an uncomfortable bed in a trailer in the desert. For the next six months he won't feel any of the comforts of home. He won't be close to me and I won't be able to touch him, to hold him, to help him heal his hurts and to share his joys. For the next six months he will live his work day in and day out without rest. For the next six months he will be virtually alone, separated from everyone that he loves in a harsh world of dangers and frustrations. For the next six months I will miss him and worry for him with every fiber of my being. For the next six months we will both learn infinitely large lessons in leaning on and trusting in our Lord.
I would give anything just to be there with him, to comfort him and to help him sleep at night. All I really want is to be there to hold onto him when his day has gone badly and to listen to his wonderful stories of his time with the Iraqis and all of his adventures. I want to be there to be his sounding board and his shoulder to cry on. I want to support him and to be all that he needs me to be. Sometimes this empty house and these 12000 miles make me feel so helpless and so alone.
Tonight, in the striking reality of the absence of Nathan, I'm thankful for my dogs, who lay right by my side and keep me sane through all of this. They don't say anything awkward or attempt to understand something that they will never be able to relate to. They just lay here next to me and let me know that they are here and I am not alone. I'm thankful that God knows where I'm at and He sees me through all of these days. I'm thankful that He will care for Nathan when I cannot. I'm thankful that He cares for me and has provided a faithful, loving husband and in his absence two faithful, loving dogs.
