Originally posted on 15 February 2007; re-posted today to say the pain does not fade.

Since I first found out of an impending mobilization, I knew separation would be a major issue to overcome. What I thought I understood in October of 2005 I discovered I had no clue about in January of 2007. When people say they understand, I now believe that only those that have experienced the same have the capability to understand. I thought I understood, but I was wrong.

When I sat in my Amarillo hotel room the night before I flew back to Camp Atterbury after New Years, not knowing if an end of training pass would be granted, I was physically ill and unable to sleep. I didn’t know when I would see my family again, or even if I would see them again. My Christmas Leave had been perfect, with a great conclusion. My mom had sent money to allow us to eat at some of our favorite places, my dad gave me a Burlington Northern engraved knife that will be a family heirloom I will carry the rest of my life, Jeremiah had fallen asleep in my arms, I then held Amy most of the night, and Sarah woke up early and came over and laid in my arms until I had to get up and get ready.

The airport was very hard. I tried to explain to the kids it would be baseball season before I came home again, and then only for a couple of weeks. They didn’t seem to understand, at least not Sarah. Then came the time to board the airplane…I waited until everyone else was on the plane, and I couldn’t take it any more. The lump in my throat and pain in my chest was unbearable. I cried as I hugged Amy and the kids. I wanted to cry for days, but was unable to. I was required to be in uniform. I couldn’t show that extreme emotion on the aircraft. When I arrived at Camp Atterbury, there was not a free moment alone to let the emotion go there either, between the open bay barracks and community bathrooms along with the hectic schedule, privacy was impossible.

In late January we received word that we would be allowed a two day local pass at the beginning of February. I was excited, so excited that I spent well over $1,000 to get my wife and kids there for what little time I would be able to spend with them. No the money wasn’t budgeted, but I didn’t care. Thankfully Amy being on active duty caused it not to be a budget buster, but I wouldn’t have cared if it was.

This time, Amy was only able to spend a little less than twenty-four hours before she had to fly back to Officer Basic, but I did get two full days with the kids. Amy leaving was almost as bad as my airport experience in January, and then leaving the kids at the hotel was horrible. This time they both seemed to understand. Sarah begged for another day. Jeremiah didn’t know what to say. I was again left in this predicament where I desperately wanted to cry and my body physically hurt, yet privacy was not an option.

After our formation, I was talking to a good friend of mine, Scott. He came up and told me about how hard it was for him to say good bye to his wife. He said he couldn’t imagine having to say bye to kids as well. He said he had no idea it would be that difficult. I told him I understood.

Now over a week later, and literally thousands of miles removed, the pain is still the same. The only difference is I finally have some privacy. Does the pain fade, or is it something I will carry for the next year? It has been the one consistent thing in my life since January 2nd. I assume it will be there until I come home.