The last week of waiting...

The deployment is finally over and all the same questions start to come up again. None of which will be answered.

The jitters and excitement come back, yet they don't come alone. The fear and anxiety rumble in the background about anything and everything out of control.

I have no control over his car breaking down half way, the amount of leave time, if the military revokes his leave, or if he even wants to see me. Then once he gets here, there are only so many hours he will have. He has to choose who is going to get his time. At the same time, my life doesn't stop. Three jobs won't just wait, 18 credit hours don't care that I want time to see him. Nothing will pause just because he is home for the first time in a very long time. Time doesn't stop for anyone nor for any reason.

Unfortunately, the MilSO is not a top priority. The MilSO is an asset. Family comes first, the returning soldier needs to be with them. The MilSO is not family, often made known by the military.

There are so many people to see and places to visit within the short amount of time he will have will at home. That is, if he gets the leave at all.

While everyone is trying to get a sliver of time, it slips away and suddenly it's time to go back to normal life, separated and quiet.

I like to compare the time he comes home to ripping off a healing scar. It's painful, yet just heals after some time just to get ripped off again. The normal military life, from the civilian side, is one alone and quiet. So it is odd to have him come back all of a sudden and flip the normal schedule upside down.

It's the final week, however.

The joy slowly creeps back up. It is difficult to pay attention during work and classes because the light is going to be back in my life. The man who I set my foundation in, who I confided in so many years ago, who I planned my future with, is finally becoming a real person again. There is no longer this ghost lingering around, pretending to be my fiance. Our lives together get to have a few more hours logged.

I have seen my fiancé for less than ten days in this past year. That is taxing enough in itself. Add in all the other complications of long-distance and military aspects, and it's more than one person should have to deal with on a daily basis.

But, it's the final week.

Happiness is rising, and hope is coming back. Hope that he will come back unchanged from the deployment, hope that our time won't be wasted, hope that I might be a priority again, and hope that my days won't be as dark.

It is the final week of waiting, and I can count the number of days left on my two hands. At the end of the night, I may talk about a lot of selfish things, but I truly want him to see his family rather than me. They are more important, and they always will be. In reality, I want him to make the most of his short time home. I don't want him to wait around for me, even though all I do is wait around for him.

In the end, I want what's best for him, even if that isn't me.