Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Parting is such sweet sorrow
Emma adores going to Nonny and Baba's house. The mere mention of such an outing makes a gloomy day better and turns a happy day into sheer ecstasy. She loves her Nonny and Baba. So today we went to visit and were there for several hours. We ate dinner and were letting her play when she ran in to the kitchen and worked very hard to get me to come with her. She was trying to open the door and was clearly ready to go home. I asked her if that was so and she emphatically squealed (her version of yes.) She was so ready to go, in fact, that when I told her that was fine but could she hang on one more minute she burst into tears! I was truly puzzled now, because I usually have to drag her away from there. So off to the car we went, and she happily complied with getting buckled in. We drove home and she sucked her thumb contentedly, meanwhile I was still trying to figure out what was up. I chocked it up to exhaustion and a long day, so when we got home, I got her pajamas on, grabbed bear friend and hoisted her in to bed. And then the tears came. She was looking around everywhere and crying piteously when it hit me. She was looking for her daddy. This has been happening more and more lately. She spends the last hour before bed time looking everywhere for daddy while I gently remind her he's bye bye and won't be home to see her tonight. And so she cries, not understanding why he can't be there and play with her. I explain as best I can, and in the end she is pacified when I remind her he will be there to wake her up tomorrow and to make her breakfast and give her big kisses. But she still looks for him a little more, and still cries a little bit when it's time to sleep. My heart breaks a little bit every time this occurs. I know what Brian is doing is so important to us, and I know there isn't any other way. But that's just it. I know. It's nearly impossible to convey this to a child who only knows her daddy isn't home tonight. So while we struggle through, I have to remember that this is for the best. I just hate that I cannot explain it to the littlest one who just misses her daddy. And more sadly, I know it breaks his heart in two not being able to be here. Two more years and we'll be home free. Until then, I'll be looking for a way to tell her that her daddy is doing it all for his girls, and he'll be home soon.
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8 comments:
this almost made me cry!
My poor sweet Ems!
Amy: I know it is hard to be alone so much without Brian but remember he is so close to yours and Emma's heart and will be through in no time at all. These two years have gone by quickly, or almost quickly,and the next two will also. Keep your chin up high,your wonderful smile waiting for Brian to return which will be such a blessing for him in the long tired hours he is spending away from you both.I love you all dearly,Ms Granny, Greatgranny,Jeannette
Oh Amy! This is so sweet and sad at the same time. Poor little Emma!
Goodness! Hard times! Mark will be in training in a few months, then as a career Marine will be gone a lot. I think about the scenario you described often. But good for Brian...his hard work will pay off.
A friend whose husband always leaves before the kids wake up said they were in a restaurant and her three year old loudly asked "Daddy, are you staying at our house tonight?" (= It's tough for little ones to understand.
Beth, that story is hilarious! I bet the poor parents wanted to tell everyone in the restaurant that it wasn't what it seemed!
You know, it's tough but it's not impossible. And as will be the case with Mark, it's for his job. This is his calling right now. So we soldier on. I am currently struggling with not viewing life as beginning in two years. It'll be another phase, yes, but I am learning to deal with where we are now. God is good, and since He's telling us this is how things must be now, then this is how things must be! I am just hoping I learn the lessons I am clearly supposed to be learning!
Awww!! How it is hard for little ones to understand and comprehend! Poor Emma.
I remember when my dad had to travel out of town. Even as an older child I found it hard to wrap my mind around the weeks when he wasn't home. But you're right not to think of life as "starting two years from now." There will always be something that stands in the way of the ideal, and always some aspect of the past we wish we could recover. I've been learning that lesson myself, lately. The best summary I've ever heard is something to the effet of "The grass is probably truly greenest from the fence." If only life had a "pause" button... (Let me know if you get to try those pancakes!)
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