So You Think You Can Have Your Marine Back

James returned from Afghani-a-go-go-land on May 29th.  We spent the three day weekend in Salt Lake City, anticipating that he would have to report back to Camp Williams for work on Tuesday.  We were pleasantly surprised to learn that he wouldn't have to report back until today.  So I got my husband for a blissful 5 days before I had to say goodbye to him.  He'll be back for the weekend, be gone next week and then finally be home for good.  It's almost cruel though, the back and forth.  And it is funny that no matter whether it is 7 months or 7 days or even just 7 hours, I still miss him terribly.  Life is just better when I am sharing it with him.  And apparently I've become a sap.  Whatever, I've earned the right to wax sentimental on occassion. 

I am not going to sugar coat or beat around the bush or be vague.  This deployment really beat me up emotionally and I suspect the same holds true for my husband.  I am so grateful that not only did he come home, but he came home relatively unscathed.  It was hard knowing that he was in dangerous situations and it was incredibly hard to trust the Corps to take care of him.  Especially when sometimes their actions indicated that decision making, even simple ones, was beyond their grasp.  It was a lot to ask of the Marines, and it was a lot to ask of their families.  And then March came and it got even harder.  Everytime I see Olsen's face or hear his name, that terrible week he died comes back to me in a rush and I want to just throw up knowing how easily that could've been James.  And I can't even begin to fathom what it was like for James.  The greatest thing about a deployment is putting it behind you, forgetting it even happened.  But when it ends up being one like this one, I suspect it haunts you.  I am so ready to try to shake it off, but I know it will take time. 

There is so much I want to put down into words about what it really felt like to go through this experience, but I just can't seem to articulate it in a way that would do it justice.  I felt types of fear and pain and love and pride that I have never felt before.  Maybe things seemed heightened because I was a mom this time, or because this deployment was a lot more dangerous than the last.  Maybe it was just because I had already done it once before and I just couldn't see myself making it through another one.  I just don't know.  But I do know that this is pretty much over.  It feels like a million pounds have been lifted off of me.  The world is starting to have color again.  I no longer count the hours after news of a casualty, wondering if dress blues will show up at my door, or at the door of a friend.  I no longer feel chained to my phone, wondering if the long periods between calls is merely happenstance or because I am about to learn they are river city- which is no longer just a communication status for me, but almost a state of mind where no news is good news, the happy period just before bad news is given.  Slowly but surely life will return to normal, or whatever we can work out normal to be.

So You Think You Can Marine Wife

10/30/09: Journal entry. Well it begins at last. About half an hour ago the plane took off, as we left the ground, I looked outside and wondered if I'll ever see the US again.....L Cpl Nigel Olsen

On Oct 30, 2009, Charlie Co of the 4th LAR Battalion left for war torn Afghanistan. LCpl Olsen recorded the event in his journal and pondered what the future held. On March 4, 2010, while attempting to apprehend suspects in an IED explosion that had killed LCpl Aragon of Charlie Co just 3 days before, LCpl Olsen got his answer. He would never see the US again, but rather he would return to it in a flag-draped coffin, escorted to his final resting place.

It was a week that left me reeling. There were conflicting reports, so little information. I didn't even know what platoon these guys belonged to. I didn't know what was going on with James, where he was or if he had been at either event. I felt helpless and alone. I could do nothing but cry and try to keep it together. Deployments force one to operate on a "it can't happen to me" basis. But when it hits so close it brings you jarringly into reality. It can happen. It does happen.

It is in these moments, the ones that absolutely break me, that I wonder if I can do it. Can I be the wife of a Marine, the wife of someone who gets paid to flirt with land mines and IEDs and the occassional suicide bomber? Can I get through this, can James? In a few short weeks we will have our answers.