image by OLX
Watching Mr. Hart and his daughter say goodbye was definitely the biggest sobfest I had before he deployed. It was one of the saddest moments of my life. It was the day before he deployed and even though we'd been with him for a week on base while he did final preparations, we'd hardly seen him. Because he'd been in training and exercises the past seven months he hadn't even started most of the pre-deployment homework he needed to do. So he was working from seven in the morning until two or three the next morning each day. It was rugged and really taking a toll on him and we were missing him and wanting desperately to spend time with him.
The day before he deployed his daughter was to visit her mother, so we had to say goodbye just before I left to make the long drive to take her to mom. I would be back on base in a few hours after I took her back and maybe have a few more minutes with Daddy before he left the next day. We went to meet Daddy at the office where he had been working and we all went outside to the picnic tables for a little privacy. We took some photos and then I just let the two of them spend some time together. I went a little way off and as they clung to each other I turned into a bucket of tears.
I took a bunch of photos of them sitting there on the picnic bench, her on his lap. She was hiding her face under her favorite blanket and just curled up in her Daddy's arms. They didn't talk, except for a few parting words Daddy tried to instill in his girl's heart before saying goodbye. They just held each other and I stood across the courtyard and cried and took pictures of them. She was so peaceful that she fell asleep in his arms for a few minutes and he sat, hunched over with his face on hers.
When it was time to go they said goodbye and she cried. I think his heart was breaking, thinking about missing an entire year of her life. He walked us to the car, got us settled and then headed back inside. As we drove away she was full of questions about what Dad was doing and where he was going even though we'd talked through all those questions time and time again. Then she said, "How will Daddy get home if we took his car? How will he get back to us?"
That was not a question I was expecting but realizing what was going through her head tore me up. I was so happy to be able to assure her that we would pick Daddy up and that he didn't need his car right now. I told her that she and I would come and meet Daddy and have a great celebration when he came home next summer. She seemed relieved although understanding how long it would be until next summer was impossible for her to register.
We drove across the base and went to the park for a few minutes, playing with kids we'd met during the week. It was somehow comforting to sit with other military wives and kids who knew what we were feeling. Then it was time to make that long drive to take her to her mom knowing that things wouldn't feel normal again for a long, long time. I wondered how she would handle the very long year ahead of us.
More than half way through now I am happy to say that even though she misses her Dad intensely, she has been a fantastic support to him. She has written piles of letters and drawn lots of pictures. She has helped with care packages, left voicemails for him and sent lots of online messages filled with every little girly emoticon you could imagine: sunshines, squirrels, hearts, stars, teddy bears, smiley faces, kissy lips and too many XOXOs to count. She's been able to Skype with her Dad, had a great R&R with him and has really taken on the challenge "We can do it." I am super proud of her and I can't wait to cry again when I see the two of them arm in arm in just a few months. How I love those two and will never forget that day, watching them say goodbye to each other.
The day before he deployed his daughter was to visit her mother, so we had to say goodbye just before I left to make the long drive to take her to mom. I would be back on base in a few hours after I took her back and maybe have a few more minutes with Daddy before he left the next day. We went to meet Daddy at the office where he had been working and we all went outside to the picnic tables for a little privacy. We took some photos and then I just let the two of them spend some time together. I went a little way off and as they clung to each other I turned into a bucket of tears.
I took a bunch of photos of them sitting there on the picnic bench, her on his lap. She was hiding her face under her favorite blanket and just curled up in her Daddy's arms. They didn't talk, except for a few parting words Daddy tried to instill in his girl's heart before saying goodbye. They just held each other and I stood across the courtyard and cried and took pictures of them. She was so peaceful that she fell asleep in his arms for a few minutes and he sat, hunched over with his face on hers.
When it was time to go they said goodbye and she cried. I think his heart was breaking, thinking about missing an entire year of her life. He walked us to the car, got us settled and then headed back inside. As we drove away she was full of questions about what Dad was doing and where he was going even though we'd talked through all those questions time and time again. Then she said, "How will Daddy get home if we took his car? How will he get back to us?"
That was not a question I was expecting but realizing what was going through her head tore me up. I was so happy to be able to assure her that we would pick Daddy up and that he didn't need his car right now. I told her that she and I would come and meet Daddy and have a great celebration when he came home next summer. She seemed relieved although understanding how long it would be until next summer was impossible for her to register.
We drove across the base and went to the park for a few minutes, playing with kids we'd met during the week. It was somehow comforting to sit with other military wives and kids who knew what we were feeling. Then it was time to make that long drive to take her to her mom knowing that things wouldn't feel normal again for a long, long time. I wondered how she would handle the very long year ahead of us.
More than half way through now I am happy to say that even though she misses her Dad intensely, she has been a fantastic support to him. She has written piles of letters and drawn lots of pictures. She has helped with care packages, left voicemails for him and sent lots of online messages filled with every little girly emoticon you could imagine: sunshines, squirrels, hearts, stars, teddy bears, smiley faces, kissy lips and too many XOXOs to count. She's been able to Skype with her Dad, had a great R&R with him and has really taken on the challenge "We can do it." I am super proud of her and I can't wait to cry again when I see the two of them arm in arm in just a few months. How I love those two and will never forget that day, watching them say goodbye to each other.
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