A sea of men in uniform. Families crying tears of happiness. Big hugs, bigger smiles.

A father surprising his daughter during her cross country meet.

A mother showing up at her son’s soccer game.

A brother surprising his sister at graduation.

Screaming with excitement, whoever they are, they run into each other’s arms. Finally together after all this time. Smiling, maybe even wiping a tear from your eye, you keep scrolling through your Facebook feed, forgetting the video within minutes.

If only that was all deployment was. A compilation of homecoming videos and pictures. But the reality that no one wants to talk about, is that it’s hard. Deployments are hard.

The majority of people I know have never had to deal with an immediate family member serving overseas, which is a good thing. But this also means that they can’t understand. They try to understand and comfort, but it’s just not possible to do that unless you have gone through it. Unless you have had to say goodbye to one of the people you love most in this world for an undetermined amount of time, you can’t comprehend. Unless you have had sleepless nights wondering if they will make it back, you can’t fathom.

Having your father, mother, husband, brother, wife, sister, son, or daughter deployed makes for the longest year of your life.

You are never not thinking about them, praying for them. Countless tears are shed, and not for a coming home video that will receive a million views on YouTube.

Missing someone is hard. Missing someone who is in a war zone is maddening.

Some days it feels like you will never make it through the next few months. It feels like time is crawling. It feels like weeks since you’ve heard from them, and sometimes it is.

Skype is great. But Skype isn’t the same. Especially when you can only get either picture or sound because the connection is so bad.

The phone call every Sunday is the highlight of the week. Hearing their voice is a relief every time. The email every once in a while is an exciting surprise that means more than words can say.

The hardest tears I have cried have been when I have had to say goodbye to my father, to my brothers, not knowing when, or if, I would see them again.

There is so much not knowing in the military. So much change. So much not getting a say.

But there is so much pride in the military. So much to be proud of. So much to say thank you for. So much that they sacrifice every day, on and off American soil, for you and me.

Few things anger me more than when someone who has never had any experience in or with the military has something condescending to say about the Armed Forces. I don’t care what you think about the government. I don’t care what your political affiliations are. Support the United States soldiers. The men and women risking their lives. The people that have the courage and determination to serve their country, your country, that you don’t. I don’t care what you think about whether or not we should still be in Afghanistan, you support those individuals that are there while you are safe at home. Safe where you don’t hear the Taliban shooting at your base in the middle of the night. Safe where you don’t have to wonder if every car has a bomb. If every hill has men with guns behind it.

You should be grateful. You should say thank you to the next man or woman in uniform that you see. You should feel as blessed as you are.

As hard as it is to have my father or brothers deployed, to miss them from the comfort of my own home, I can’t even begin to imagine how unbearable it is for them. How long each and every day is. I can’t understand. I can’t comprehend. I can’t fathom.

Nothing compares to the joy that is experienced in those homecoming videos you watch. But nothing compares to the grief that is experienced in the homecoming videos you don’t see, the ones that never get to happen.

Remember that next time.

And thank a soldier.