The Epitome of Lonesome Weekends…

 It’s another day – another night – another Saturday – another Sunday – another weekend spent alone without my husband.

Since my husband left for deployment, I have found weekends to be one of the most challenging experiences. My husband and I always look forward to the weekend like a guaranteed mini-vacation. It was time for family and to create great memories for our girls. Even if we went to the commissary or ran errands – we always incorporated a nice drive and/or dinner at a restaurant. Those days have vanished in the wind and now the weekends appear like nothing but a dark blur that vaguely has the same ambiance as before.

Besides toting my daughter to and from track and checking off my To-Do list, the weekends have converted to nothing but a web of routine and I find myself stuck right in the center. I robotically get up, get the girls ready and dressed, and get us moving out the door only to return home and continue our habitual practices of the week – bathe, read, and off to bed.

At times these weekends can be a mixed blessing. There are days that I am so emotionally, mentally, and physically exhausted that doing nothing is a haven for my heart, soul, and body. I submerge myself in my bed and cuddle into my pillow while the girls take a midday nap or watch a movie. It’s as good as it gets some days.  

Today it was what most would consider a lazy day – but for me it was more of a lonesome one. I woke up unmotivated to peel myself off from the bed and let alone remove my pajamas. Even with my extra-large cup of coffee, I lacked the enthusiasm to enjoy the nice day with my girls and moved more like a zombie not once letting the sun stroke my face. I relentlessly confined myself to the four corners of my bedroom all day – pressing on my pillow like a stone trapping a fly, squeezing it almost flat – dreaming and longing for it to be my husband here with me but instead I got a fluff of feathers and all I could do is bury my tears and fears beneath it.

I was tremendously (and guilt-fully) grateful my mother took my oldest daughter for the day and right when my toddler woke up from her mid-day nap my father was here to entertain her until about my mother returned. Although I know that my family and friends tell me there is nothing wrong with taking a break – being a military wife, it’s as if you are molded to just keep it going and accustom yourself to everything around you all while doing it alone. It’s very difficult to ask for day to myself – even if it’s to just be limited to my bedroom to sulk. However, I can easily grasp that what I am feeling today should only burden me and never my daughters. It’s not fair to them to have ‘mommy looking sad’ as the day passes and (even worse) restraining them to our home because I have no desire to see the light outside of a bulb on a ceiling or stand. Even on my most gloomy days, I become elated knowing that my daughters are off getting spoiled for the day – no limits, no boundaries, no impatience, no sad faces, and (most of all) no yelling or crying. 

Every day is not like this of course. I do my best to maintain busy and to go out to visit friends and family as often as possible. And I am usually invited ‘somewhere’ just about each weekend. It’s just every now and then it hits me like freight train with no brakes that my husband isn’t home. Surprisingly, I find it especially more difficult on nights I do go out to have a nice enjoying night be it solo, with friends, or with my daughters. Those are the nights I find it to be the most difficult drives home, walks to the front door, and to fall asleep. Going home after having a good night and seeing everyone enjoy each other only reminds me more of how I am the only one going home alone. Just about everyone within my circle has their person to go home to and it’s here where I get the heart-breaking reminder like bull-horn two inches away from my ear that I don’t have my person to go home too.

It is here within these moments coming home lying on my pillow I learned that the eye, even when sealed, can still trickle tiny tears in tune with every beat from my shattered heart – but although minuscule, they are hefty in sentiment. Each tear reminded me of how as much as I try to close out my emotions from feeling lonely – no matter the resistance it will always seep through. It doesn’t matter how I spend my day – blissfully with daughters, shopping listlessly, reading, writing, have dinner and wine with good friends, moping at home in my pajamas – the feelings at the end of the night will remain the same. My bed is large and I lay alone in it. 

You don’t know what empty feels like until the person you love that loves you back completely want to be together but are powerless in any efforts to make it real. An empty heart is a heart that is limited. That piece that makes it beat is dead. It is dark and rough but easily converted back to what it knows as ecstasy. I know my heart will be filled again. And I know my heart will beat again and that it will intense and soft – it just won’t be that way again until my husband is home.

I know I am lucky to have family and lifelong friends around that can assist me in days like this but my heart truly feels for the other military wives who don’t have the same fortune as I – to have a moment or break every now and then. I know it is probably a standard emotion that comes along as the wife on the home front through deployment and that this too shall pass – but for me, the lonesome weekends has been the most difficult. I am aware too that this deployment will not be the last one we experience- I just hope next time around, which I know I most likely will not be around family and friends, that it will get easier and painless (I’m skeptical – but I will hold on to hope).

“Where you used to be, there is a hole in the world, which I find myself constantly walking around in the daytime, and falling in at night.  I miss you like hell. “

 ~Edna St Vincent Millay