No one tells you this part. Even if they did, they couldn’t possibly prepare you for it. How much it hurts when you watch him walk away into the unknown. The feeling you get in your stomach each time you have dinner alone…
I turned the key and let out a deep sigh as I entered our home. The familiar smell of pecan brownies filled the air. Warm, inviting. A little white ball of fur came bolting down the hallway. Our dog, Noelle. She looked past me towards the door, looking for her daddy. Her hero. I looked away, holding back tears. For a minute I pretended that I didn’t see, hoping she’d quickly go on about her day. But we had anticipated this. I reached into my bag for one of her favorite treats. The ones she always went crazy for. ‘Mmmmm,’ I loudly said and placed it on the ground where she sat. As I hung my coat, I snuck a peek over at her. She had settled down right there. The treat was untouched. I should have known. A treat versus her daddy? He’d win every time. There she sat, staring intently at the door. Tail down. Ears up. Listening for his footsteps. ‘Come on Noelle baby, daddy will come a little later.’ I could barely get the words out knowing the truth. How does one tell a dog about these things?
For an hour, I watched her. Loyal. Patient. Perking up at every sound she heard. Tears silently rolled down my cheeks as I picked her up and carried her back down the hallway. It was so quiet in the house. Though I wore only socks, my footsteps seemed to pound in my ears. Each one louder than the one before. I sat down cross-legged on the floor and balanced her on my lap. She crawled right out of my arms and into her little bed. ‘Daddy will be home soon,’ I told her.
I glanced at my bible, still open on the bedside table. I had prayed. We had prayed. I was confident in the direction we had received. But why did I still feel so sad? ‘Because you love your husband and you’re human,’ I told myself out loud.
I headed into the kitchen to prepare for dinner and stopped dead in my tracks as my eyes landed on the sink. I had made his favorite right before dropping him off. His plate was still sitting there. Traces of brown gravy lingered on the smooth white porcelain. A mere hour earlier, he had been enjoying his meal at the dining room table, thanking me with a smile for making his favorite. I swore in that moment I could almost feel him. My phone vibrated and shook me from my thoughts. Why was it so loud? ‘How’s it going?’ It was my sister checking in on me. My thumbs quickly drafted a response and shot it back to her. ‘Doing great! Gonna call soon!’ I didn’t want her to worry. I didn’t want her to call. I didn’t want to cry.
I made too much food. Going from dinner for two to party of one had proven to be a little more difficult than I had expected. My eyes darted to that spot on the couch. His favorite spot. The one he loved to settle into after a long day at work. I loved seeing him sit there. Relaxed and content. Offering assistance if needed but otherwise waiting for the notification that dinner was complete. Usually around this time he’d smile at me as I made our plates and tell me that he loved me. A gentle forehead kiss always came soon after. Suddenly, I had no appetite. My eyes filled with tears. I angrily wiped them away as I sat to have my meal, irritated with the fact that I had become so emotional. He will be back. This was always a part of our lives. We had been here before. But this time was just so unexpected. So different.
I had to be strong, but I missed my husband…
SierraSweetheart 
Your love can conquer any deployment. Distance makes it even stronger. Our prayers are with you😍
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