Getting ready for deployments is hard, on both sides of the pier. I can only imagine what goes on past the quarterdeck. To be honest, I don't want to imagine it. I know what goes on here and that's enough for me. There's paperwork to get in order: ID cards, Power of attorney, financial arrangements- how much spending money to transfer on a regular basis to the Boy's accounts, and that way he can leave the joint accounts alone except for emergencies. This is especially important to us when the world separates us. This way his spending in a liberty port does not adversely affect my management of the household by accident. There's the unspoken current running through everything I say to him. Sometimes I can feel that current running both ways underneath our words.

Don't forget me.
I love you.
Don't leave me.

The last is spoken only in my tears when he is gone. I know better than to say it to him. He doesn't want to leave me. It's his duty to go, his job to go, this is what we pay for all the 'perks' of military life. Sometimes it helps, more often it doesn't. It's the bandage wrapped tightly around my sprained heart to keep the swelling manageable. I can feel the throbbing of the damage through the bandage, keeping time with my heartbeats. Breathe through the pain. Just like all other wounds.

Then there's the last days before he leaves. Laundry to be done every other day so that all his stuff is clean and ready to go. Shaving cream and razor refills to be set out so that he doesn't forget them. Double and triple checking, paperwork and random things around the house. The unspoken words that rise in my throat, choking my voice. I want to bury my face in his armpit and grab his shirt until my knuckles spasm. I keep having to remind myself to let go before I rip his clothing, before I hurt him. It doesn't do any good, because a minute later my hands are knotted in his shirt again. Don't leave me. Life goes on regardless. I can see empty days stretching out before me. My baby's first steps, her first words. He's not going to be here to see them. As much as that breaks my heart it's worse for him.

So I'm going to give my girl a hug and tuck her into bed tonight, and tomorrow when I see my husband I'm going to hold his hand and tell him that I love him. Because very soon I'm not going to be able to say it to his face.