Growing up in a military family comes with unique obstacles. Everyone's family has a different story. Some go through more suffering and pain, while others experience the opposite. Here is my family's story.
At a young age, around 18, my parents dropped everything and joined the Air Force. My dad left his mother, sister and rapidly increasing drug activity of Connecticut to start anew. My mother left her parents and sister in Minnesota to become a pilot and chase her dreams. By fate, luck, or the grace of God, they crossed paths. Marriage followed and after a while, I became less of a dream and more of a reality. In light of this life-changing news, they knew a decision had to be made. Some one would have to leave the Air Force to insure that at least one parent could be home with me while I grew up. Logically, it was decided that my mother would be the one to stay with me. Little did she know the hardships that came along with that choice.
My father served over 20 years. During which, he was assigned deployment several times. At least half of these tours were assigned during my childhood. That meant he would be away from us for up to nine months at a time, thousands of miles away.
“I bet that was hard on you.”
A few years ago I would have responded with, "Absolutely." Why? Well, because it was terrible, not only for me, but for all of us. There were countless days filled with memories, holidays and other moments that we can never get back. He missed recitals, birthdays and everyday accomplishments. Worst of all, he missed the birth of my sister due to an unexpected tour extension....Mom still struggles with that one.
As I got older, it became harder and harder to say goodbye, due to the fact that I was now so much more aware of the risks that came with his profession. I had started to feel resentment towards my father for leaving us for so long. Back home, it became very difficult to interact with my mother, who was trying too hard to mend a hole that only my father could fill. It created a deep wedge in our relationship that took years to repair.
At this time in my life, I see no reason to focus on what was, or what could have been. I choose to cherish the beautiful gifts that he always brought home for me; one of which being a ring that hasn't left my finger for years. I will always remember the paper chain mom and I made to help us count the days until he came home. Taking a link off of that chain was consistently the best part of my day. I am blessed to have been able to stay in one town throughout the entirety of my dad's service. Many families don't get that gift. These are the things that I tell curious people. These are the things I cherish.
