My World Alone

I sit alone at our kitchen table and eat my dinner. Often times, it's a frozen meal or take out, because cooking for one is not only hard, but tears at my heart strings every time. I have flashbacks of us making dinner together, and then I wake up to the reality of being alone.

I open the medicine cabinet, and there are your things: your toothbrush, your razor, your personal items. They are just how you left them, so when you come home, there will be nothing you have to adjust to or try to find. I stare at them for a little while, knowing they are some of the last things you touched the day you left. Something so simple as a toothbrush has so much meaning to me.

I look at pictures of you, so I don't forget what you look like. I smile at the ones you smile back at me in. I am proud of the ones of you in your uniform. I sigh, and wish the photos would come to life, so you can hold me in your arms once again. 

I get into our car and look for your hand to hold, but instead, there is an empty seat where you should be sitting. I don't turn on the radio, because there is nobody there to playfully fight over which radio station we will listen to. I pump the gas, but I always envision you doing it, because that's one of the things you always took care of for me. 

I do the laundry, but nothing of yours has been in it for months. Sometimes, I put a pair of your socks in there, just so I can feel normal. 

I go to bed alone. This is one of the hardest things, because we held each other every single night until we fell asleep, or our ARMS did. I have one of your t-shirts I use as a pillow case on one of our pillows. At night, I snuggle with it pretending it is you. 

I spray your cologne on my teddy-bear and allow him to catch my tears as I cry for you every night. We both say a prayer to bring you home safe. He wears your dog-tags on his paw, the one that is embroidered with the words you chose when you gave him to me, "I love you Jenfire."

I go everywhere by myself, and I miss you reaching behind waiting for me to grab your hand so we can walk hand in hand, side by side. 

I often catch myself ordering two scoops of ice-cream, thinking that you and I will share, then remembering you aren't here. The other half always melts. 

There is nobody here to comfort me in my times of stress or feeling overwhelmed. I close my eyes and feel your arms around me, telling me everything is going to be OK. Sometimes it works. Most times, it just hurts more, because the reality is, you are so very far away. 

I don't hear your voice for months and months on end, and when I do, I am so overwhelmed, I can't even speak ... just cry. That gives you comfort and pain at the same time, because you love how much I love you, but you don't like to hear me cry.

It's too quiet, here, in this lonely world. The days don't move fast enough. Time stands almost still. 

I hear wives complaining about their husbands, and I want to tell them to be thankful their husbands aren't where my husband is. Sometimes, I do.

I am proud of you, all that you do, and all that you stand for. Come home soon, and come home safe. 

Your Always Loving Wife, 

Jenny