Four years ago, an 18 year old missionary kid moved back from England early to marry her high school sweetheart.
They had only been together for two weeks out of the two years since he had left during his junior year of high school. In those two years, she finished high school in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia working as an English teacher and training in Muay Thai and he joined the Marine Corps.
Does anyone truly know what they’re “getting into” when they get married?
She followed him to the west coast, spent a summer traveling, more or less homeless with their newborn son, followed him to the east coast where their daughter was born, they bought a house, she moved across the country again–alone this time–where they decided to build their next house.
He missed every mother and father’s day except for one.
Hopped on an airplane to leave for four months when his firstborn was only 20 hours old.
Left yet again, after leaving too many times to even count, the morning of his son’s first birthday. Bought him a rainbow cupcake from the grocery store, let him eat it for breakfast, then kissed him goodbye for five weeks.
He missed more than half of the first two years of his son’s life until an injury brought him home just in time for our daughter’s birth.
We’ve had to say goodbye for a month and a half with two days notice. Been through the emotional rollercoaster of being slated for deployments and then taken off, over and over again. Had a husband wanting to deploy, to put his years of expert training to use, only to be told his injury made him unable.
He’s missed hundreds of bedtime stories, been released at 11pm and had to be back at 2am, and told his injury is unfixable and to prepare for a lifetime of pain.
At our family battalion Christmas party, they raffled off strip club gift certificates. He’s lost friends to suicide. Alcoholism and addictions are as common as the mosquitoes in humid North Carolina. The culture is broken and depraved yet the bravery and selflessness was unmatched.
My husband’s five year enlistment was full of sleeplessness, anxiety, screaming first sergeants–at one six week training school he worked through chow every single meal and the only food available to buy off hours was cheeseburgers. That’s right–he ate nothing but cheeseburgers for six weeks and I don’t think he’s eaten a cheeseburger since.
Five years he’s served this country, sacrificing his freedom, peace of mind, and time with his family.
This morning, he picked up his DD-214.
He’s done.
He’s a civilian.
And I’ve never been married to a civilian before. Last time I knew my husband as a civilian, he was 16 and we were juniors in high school. Then we broke up for a year and by the time I saw him again, he was a Marine.
In our married life, it’s all we’ve ever known. It’s all our kids have ever known.
Today, I am no longer a military wife. I don’t want to think too hard about it because this season has been infinitely harder than I ever could have imagined, but it has also been the sweetest. We have been forged into stronger people through this trial by fire.
Haven’t we come a long way since the days I came to see you after bootcamp and in an absolutely failed attempt to be romantic called you “my soldier,” not realizing Marines, especially brand new ones, are not to be confused with soldiers? Oh, I learned my lesson quickly that day, and I have learned infinitely more since.
I have a civilian husband now.
They say when your husband gets out, it can be like getting to know him all over again. It’s a version of my husband I’ve never known and because we’re 1,522 miles apart, a version I’ve never even met.
I’m ineffably proud, and almost equally sad. It hasn’t even sunk in but I miss it already.
My love, I couldn’t be more proud of you. These last five years have not been a dream–in fact, we never could have even dreamed of the challenges our family and our marriage would overcome–but we made it. We did it.
I can’t wait to meet civilian you.
