Always

Dear Parker,

Most of the time I think that you are doing so very well with this deployment. Then, every once in awhile, you will come out and say something that reminds me that you have fears too, even if you aren't sure why you are scared. You did that today.

You and Sebastian were playing at the train table, seemingly happy as could be, when you suddenly stopped and looked over at me, tears in your eyes. 

"Mommy, I don't want to be a Daddy!" Sure I had misheard you, I asked what, and you repeated with a little more fear in your voice "I don't want to grow up and be a Daddy!" We have often talked about when you grow up big like Daddy, and you have always been excited about the idea, so this was a complete change of tune.

Concerned by your sudden change in mood and the heartbreaking tremble in your bottom lip, I pulled you to me and asked 'Why ever not?"

Tears spilling over now you said "Because there can't be two daddies, and so if I am a Daddy and here, Daddy can't come home again, and I don't want to leave!" I am sure that years down the line this will be a story that I smile over, maybe even laugh a little, but right now I can't. You looked so heartbroken and scared that my heart cried for you as I held you close and rocked you.

"Parker, your Daddy will come home. He will always come home to us." It seemed important to get that out first and foremost. I never want you to doubt that fact, especially not at the age of three. I then went on. "It will be a long time before you are all grown up and ready to get married and have a house of your own and be a Daddy." This didn't seem to reassure you though. You clung to me tight and whimpered:

"I don't ever want to leave. I don't want to marry anyone else. I want to marry you and stay here with you forever." 

Part of knowing that I have done my job is knowing that one day you will grow and leave my home to one of your own. I will be sad on that day, even as I rejoice that you are a good man who your father and I have made as ready for this world as possible. I also know that this has nothing to do with that day, many years in the future, but with the fact that you are scared. You have too many people who you love that have to be far away. You have too many people who you can't see and touch and feel whenever you want to. You might not know how to explain that at three years old, but it scares you. It makes you feel like you aren't safe. It makes you feel like any of us could go away at any time, including you. And it breaks my heart that you have to feel that way, Parker. War is Hell, son, and more so on you children than anyone I think. 

So instead of trying to tell you that you would one day want to leave. Instead of trying to explain that being gone didn't mean we wouldn't always be a family. Instead of trying to make something make sense to you at three years old that I can't even get my mind around most days at twenty-eight, I held you close, kissed your head, and promised to you in a whisper:

"You can always stay with us, Parker. As long as you want to, you can be here. Always."

And I mean that. Forever and always, we are your family. We will always be together. I promise.

Until next time, be good, be happy, and know that I love you.

Love,

Mommy