Don't Forget--His Dad just left

As long as my Grandfather was on earth he reminded us all "Don't Forget".  It was quite easy to remember he loved us. He told us all of the time. Usually he was laughing hard at one of our antics (I'm talking about when I was 30 years old) when he'd gasp out  "I love youuuu, honey" through peals of red-faced laughter. A few minutes later when he'd recovered he'd say "Don't forget" with a twinkle in his eye. I haven't. I won't. Not ever.

My grandfather retired from the Navy as a Master Sergeant, having climbed all the ranks of the enlisted Navy. He was hardworking and dedicated. He did his job (and everything in his life) with the utmost integrity and love. He had three beautiful girls and a doting wife and he routinely said goodbye to them to "ship out". My mother, now in her 50's, talks about saying goodbye to her "Daddy" with as much emotion as if it happened yesterday. She hated it. She missed him every single second he was gone. She noticed her mother's grief--intensified after the tragic loss of their oldest daughter. She hated those big Navy ships in the yard. She hated the Navy. It was what took her beloved Daddy away again and again. Her Dad who read to her endlessly. Her Dad who invented Hot Chocolate and Peanut Butter Toast as a viable breakfast option. Her Daddy who laughed at her almost constant antics and reminder never, ever, to "forget".

Maybe it is because I grew up with these stories that I pretty much promised myself I wanted nothing to do with that kind of life (HA! so funny). Even though I deeply admired my Grandfather, I loved my mother even more. And, the Navy had hurt her. That was all I could really see.

Someday I'll write a post about how I became a patriot. I really wasn't always one. In fact, I stepped all over the toes of some of my friends in the military (actually, perhaps more like kicking them in the shins). I probably still do, at times of insensitivity. But, I'm much, much better. But, today, I'm not feeling like much of a Patriot. To be honest, I'm feeling like a soldier side-by-side with wounded wives (and parents, and husbands, and children) all over our country. I want to find a chair and cry tears with pouring rain that is flooding the creeks and streams around us. I am a military wife.

You see, there is a little boy at my son's preschool who is perpetually happy. We'll call him V. V greets me each day with a high five and a "hey what's up, L__'s mom?!" and his soprano voice lilts with the joyfulness he exudes. Almost every day he has organized some great imaginary game for his friends, including my son, and he's eager to make me, and the other parents, a part of it.

One day, he gave me tickets to his rockband show. "Um. It is at my house. At 7 o'clock. Your son is doing a great job! A greaaaat job! Don't be late. We'll see you there!".

Another time, he assured me that he was planning a way to treat the whole school to an entire WEEKEND at Chuckee-Cheeses. When his family was leaving on vacation, he created an entire story about how he was moving away and had long dramatic goodbyes with all of his friends (thankfully his teacher reassured us this "move" was only temporary and he'd back in a week). V is easy to love. He's a "little man" and I really, really, like this kid.

This morning I struggled to get my son out the door. He screamed. He kicked his shorts off. He told me there was no-way, no-how, he wanted to go to school today. I reminded him V would be waiting for him, but even that couldn't pierce his frustration this morning. We've had a week like that. Suddenly, he's testing the limits on this school thing. Does he have to go? Does he have to stay for the full day? What if he doesn't want to take a nap? You get the idea. Although he has gladly kissed me goodbye and sent me on my way in the past, the last 2 weeks have been different. I've left him in tears (that last only as long as it takes me to climb the stairs). I've been trying to get to the root of it, but I'm not there yet. My mother's instincts tell me he is really just testing. He wants to make sure this isn't an area he has a choice.

Anyway, as I was extricating myself from the grip of my little boy this morning, I looked over and saw V. He was in a death-grip hug-lock with his mother. I overheard her reassurances. He wasn't having any of it. There were no tears (yet), but it was clear he did not want his mom to leave him today. I gave a knowing smile to his mother and said "You know, we've been having a tough time too". She smiled at me. We are friendly, but not friends. "His Dad just left. Last night." and it was if she had punched me in the gut. I knelt down to talk to V. I suggested playdates and park excursions. But, who was I kidding? This was like trying to fill a canyon with a child's bucket full of sand. I touched his head. I smiled at his mom. And I retreated to my car.

You see, even though my husband has not been deployed since the very beginning of our marriage, I never, ever forget. Maybe it is because of the real memory of hurt in my mother's eyes as she talks of her childhood. Maybe it is because I have a very active imagination. Maybe it is because I would have never chosen this particular way to serve, but I fell in love with someone who is deeply committed to serving his country (first on the bomb squad, now as a physician). My husband will be deployable again in 3.5 years. Even though I know we are long past due, I am not at all happy to be staring that kind of sacrifice in the face. This cross seems to be one to choose me perhaps because I dislike it so much?

I'm not sure how long V's dad is gone. And, perhaps, he's only TDY. But, I do know he is a dedicated Marine. And he serves with the same jovial spirit I see in his son (I've never encountered V's dad without a smile on his face or warmth in his interactions). About half of the kids at my son's school have parents who are active duty military. "His Dad (or Mom) just left" is overheard more often than "we can't decide where to go on vacation". This is the reality for these children. For my children.

When 9/11 happened we vowed never, ever, to forget. And, I guess most people haven't. But, I do want to plead with you all not to forget the military families who continue to serve. They say goodbye again and again and again to their loved ones. They may appear to make it look easy or routine, but it is anything but. Their children cry over the missed parents. They act out.  Kids get sick and need visits to the ER--with all the other kids in tow. Birthdays take planning and broad shows of strength and smiles when one parent is in a far away land. And the spouse left behind may not speak her fears, but I assure you she has them.

When we say "Don't Forget" it has to be more than a mental exercise. It has to be a catalyst for the action of love. Can we babysit? Can we invite a family over for Sunday dinner? Or holidays? Can we stop what we are doing to "be there" for our military friends? Your day is long and you are stressed and your husband was traveling all last week...I get it. I am the queen of all excuses. But, let's make a renewed commitment not to forget our friends who selflessly serve. Let's go out of our way to support organizations that support families through all stages of deployment. Let's remember how safe we feel knowing there are those who are trained to protect us. And let's never forget the price our service members, and their families, pay to do this for us.

My grandfather never complained about serving. I doubt my grandmother did to anyone outside of our immediate family. They shouldered far more than there fair share of grief. And they didn't ask anything of anyone. Still, I can't help to wonder at a much deeper meaning behind my Grandpa's words. And, I echo his admonition: "Don't forget".

(p.s. No editing has been done, but I'm publishing anyway. If I have time, I will go back and edit later)