Expectation

It’s been 63 hours since I’ve seen Kevin.

I’ve already spoke to him twice on the phone and he sent me a few messages online the first day.

I am being spoiled, so far.

I am still heartbroken.

The worst part? The expectations. My family is filled with strong women. Women who I’ve seen being tough in the toughest situations. My own Mama raised me through 4 of my Dad’s tours overseas.

What if I’m not that strong?

I cry all the time. I look around my house and I just can not believe that Kevin isn’t there. I go out with my friends, and I just want him to be there when I get home. I’m writing this now and feeling sick to my stomach. I can’t breathe.

The worst part? I have it easy! I’m not the woman at D-57 with three kids, up at 6am to say goodbye to their Daddy. I’m not super-pregnant like at least 4 of the women there Wednesday morning. I don’t have a newborn. I don’t think I should feel like I do because there are so many other people who have it way worse.

I have enough things to keep me busy but I haven’t been doing them. I have all the coping mechanisms in place but I just feel tired and sick. I bet if you listened with a stethoscope – you wouldn’t hear my heart beating. I watched my heart walk away and get on a bus. Now it’s in Afghanistan.

Everyone has been so supportive and always has great advice. “You’ll feel normal again in a couple weeks” or “just get into a routine”. My Mom says “I know exactly how you feel. I’m here for you!”. I love you all and appreciate your kind words so much, really.

I expected to have hard days. I expected to cry. I didn’t expect this.

I will go to school, for Kevin. I will go to work, for Kevin. I will be strong, for Kevin. Everything – for him. Because I expect him to come home – my only expectation for him is to stay safe and come right back home. And he damn well won’t  find me in a crumpled heap on the floor.

The only expectation that matters…

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