Well, I survived yesterday fairly unscathed. It was the first in a long line of firsts to get through. Next will be your birthday. Last year you were deployed for it and we got you a cake to celebrate anyway, so maybe we'll do that again this year. I still have some time to figure that out and there is still more to deal with before then. As for yesterday, it was wonderful to see all the love and support from so many women from church taking us out to lunch. It was a great distraction and Nathan had a blast, too. One of the ladies bought me flowers. Then Jena and I went out last night because I was trying to stay out of the house as much as possible. Jena bought me roses and I brought one into the restaurant with me. It was just sitting on my purse and out of no where it rolled off. I would like to think it was you maybe saying hello or I love you on our Anniversary.
I knew that the nights would be the hardest, but the Chaplin told me the mornings would be. Now I can say they are equally as difficult. For obvious reasons the nights are hard; you are not there to cuddle with or talk to or watch movies with (or help keep Nathan in his room for that matter). The mornings are hard because I don't have you to wake up and make sure you get up for work. I wake up and think "Why bother even getting out of bed?" I don't see you there, I don't get my morning hug or kiss. I don't get to ask "Will you be home for lunch?" Because I know you won't be, not today, not any day. I wake up thinking "How am I going to find the strength to make it through this day?" I don't care about anything without you here. I just Don't care!
Nathan has been such a good big brother to Avery lately. He has really grown up and is like a little man. It's kind of sad, but nice to see him wanting to take care of her. He gave me some change from his piggy bank and said "This is to buy Avery's bike." So, I thought since I was buying her a bike I should get him something special, too. I bought him some little Camies today on base and now he's been playing Marine since we got home. He found some boot socks and a belt in his closet and went in the garage to get a pair of your boots. He's so proud "to be a Marine like Daddy." It's so cute and I wish you were here to see it, too.
I was crying a little while ago and Nathan asked if I was still sad about Daddy. I said yes with which he replied "I'm not sad because I already know he's dead, but you don't know that yet." First of all, he IS devastated, but doesn't want to cry with me. He tells me to stop because it makes him sad. Second, you know I think he's right. I think I really am in "deployment mode" and really think you are coming home. Tommy, when I really allow myself to Feel it, to accept that you are gone forever gets too overwhelming. I don't know how to do this in the long run, not alone, not without you. I can do 7 months. I've done it 3 times since we got married. We spent numerous other nights, days, and weeks apart for everything from duty to trainings. I can do that. It honestly sucks, but I'm used to that-- a few days here and few weeks there. I hate deployments, HATE them! But I can do them. What I Can't do is forever. I can't do forever without you. I don't want to and I don't know how to. Part of me is missing and I can't get it back. It didn't have to be this way and I can't accept it's real. I wish I knew how long it would be until we were together again because that is the day I look forward to. I lost any and all sense of fear the night I found out you were gone. I don't fear life and I sure don't fear death.
Do you remember a few weeks ago we watched WhiteOut and for some reason afterwards when we went up to bed I just started to break down crying? I told you that I had this HORRIBLE feeling that I was going to make the wrong decision on something, but I had no clue what. I said 'If something bad happens and I make the wrong decision on something and someone gets hurt, I need you to know that I'm sorry. I'm SO sorry.' I couldn't explain it, but you held me and said "It's ok." But Tommy, it's not ok! It's really and truly NOT ok and it never will be again. I don't know how I am going to get through this. I pretend I'm ok with other people around. They all say I'm "Strong," but they have NO idea what this is doing to me inside. I'm sorry, Tommy. I love you and miss you always.