YaYa and I were at a stop light, en route to drop off for his 3-day backpacking camp, when it hit me. Mid-sentence, my voice warbled and my eyes welled up with tears as I told YaYa that, after he returns from his trip, we will have one day left to spend with BoBo.
I am planning to take Friday off from work, I explained, so that YaYa, BoBo, and I could spend the day together before he ships off to Moody AFB in Valdosta, Georgia. This will be his new home for the next 2 years (barring he does not get deployed).
Up until today, I think I’ve been in denial in acknowledging that BoBo won’t be back home for a L-O-N-G time. I’ve said it out loud but it hasn’t quite hit me the way it is now starting to.
Months ago, when my son called and told me that he would not be able to come home for Christmas, I was just happy that his “bad news” was not that he was being deployed. Now, however, I am feeling the disappointment.
Once more, I am forced to change with the ever-changing times of my new life – only I am not sure how to change with this one. Frustrated with the return of another broken Christmas, I resist the urge to jump up and down in tantrum-like fashion and cry “This is NOT how it’s supposed to be.” Instead, I remind myself that it is never quite how you imagined it. *sigh*