I’m going to be completely honest. This morning was not looking so good. After a midnight call from my beau, whereupon I fell asleep immediately (thankfully), I woke up with my heart in my throat, chocking literally on my grief and sadness. It was bad. Immediately my eyes welled with tears and I wanted nothing more than to grovel in my misery. True story.

Thankfully I have Little Brooks. That child amazes me. He misses his Daddy. He really and truly does. But man is he resilient. He knows that in a short while, his words, his Daddy will be home and until then he’ll bide his time, keeping busy, playing hard, having sleepovers, and using that big ol’ imagination of his.

So this morning, when all I wanted to do was hide under my sheets, forgoing any thoughts of showers or teeth brushing or eating or anything, I looked over and saw my sweet boy sleeping. So I did what any good Momma will do. I swallowed my misery into the pit of my stomach and began my morning chores : dusting, vacuuming, laundry, yard work, etc. All the while what I really wanted to do was shun all housework and crawl back into bed.

Two hours later, while sniffling and crying over my computer, hoping to hear from Brooks, my friend Trish appeared at the door: a 12 pack of Coca Cola in hand, a hug at the ready. Here’s the thing about military spouses. We come from all over. Our life experiences are so different, our backgrounds, our families, the states or countries we call home. And yet we have this common experience, this crazy strong bond. We understand uniquely the challenges of being a military family, laugh at the lingo and endless acronyms, relish new friendships and new duty stations, etc.

When our husbands are gone they are our family. When they are home they understand why telephone calls may taper off. They don’t become angry. They joyfully celebrate with us because they know we’re ridiculously busy soaking up any time we can with our loved one. They get it.

So today, after hugging me and listening to me sob, sharing in my tear fest, Trish had some pretty encouraging words. And then she got tough, pretty much admonishing me and telling me to snap out of it. And the thing is that that’s exactly what I needed to hear. This endless weeping isn’t truly me. Sure, when Brooks leaves I become incredibly sad and miss him like crazy and it takes a few days to get into a good rhythm without him, a new “normal.” But this endless boo hoo-hooing isn’t healthy, and even I knew that. I’ve been so consumed by my grief that it was causing me to feel anxious, it was panicking me.

Trish was a life saver today. And although I remained sad the rest of the day I took her advice. I got out of the house, visited with family (thanks, Missy, for meeting us in Waco), and slowly shed the weight of unbearable sadness. Am I still sad? Of course. But it’s a bearable sad. It’s an I-can-do-this-sad. I feel strong and courageous and happy. Yes, happy.

Somewhere, half way around the world, there is a man that loves me to an incredible depth and who misses me as much as I miss him. Just hearing his voice today made me smile, set those butterflies in my tummy to twirling around, and made my palms all sweaty. I love that after all this time he still does that to me. And that makes me incredibly happy.

So today, after a shaky start, and thanks to a very smart, amazing friend, I snapped out of it. I am incredibly thankful for wonderful friends. For Tanja who met me at a moments notice yesterday to keep me company on our first day apart. For Trish, incredibly busy that she is, who stopped by today to share in my grief. And for all the friends and family that have called or emailed or sent messages, encouraging me and sharing in my pain and sadness. I am especially grateful to my sister, busy that she is as well, who loves my little family so much and who yesterday spent a good while on the phone with me to make sure we were okay.

I am blessed beyond measure. I’ll focus on that.

As always, life remains sweet, regardless of the circumstances.