We are getting close to the end of our training here in “Funtown.” To be completely honest, I have not been this frustrated, ever! in the last 15 years of my military career. I have been waiting for news of our graduation date, our leave and our fly date out of here but it all has been one after another futile effort to be proactive. Today, I was finally told—even though it's not official—that we will have 4 days to visit our families…lovely!!! While other classes enjoyed numerous 4 day weekends plus 8 to 9 days of leave before their graduation and eventual deployment, we were lucky to get one 4 day weekend and 4 days of leave before our deployment. It just goes to show me—and confirm—that this training is not consistent and does not follow any guidelines whatsoever.
I guess I should be grateful to be given 4 precious days after being away from my family for 3 months and before I get sent to Iraq for 15 months. Should I feel taken cared of? Who is thinking of my family? What kind of training is this that gives more to one class and less to the other? But this is the way business has been running lately, cutting corners to get some mission done.
This past week the rest of Class 18 left the compound enroute to their assignments. Many peers of our Captain Career Course were part of that class. It was sad to see them go, wished them luck and then reality hit me like a brick over my head; “You are next!” We have less than two weeks of training here and I seem to be spaced out thinking that I have to decide what I am going to take but not making a packing list. Class 18 had around 700 people—unlike our class with only 60. We no longer have to fight for parking spots nor make long lines in the dining facility; the camp looks ghostly and there’s a somber kind of feeling every time we see the duffle bags of soldiers piled on crates by the road in the morning but gone by lunch time. Everybody knows what happened but nobody talks about it because nobody wants to think about the day our duffle bags will make the scene of the day.
In Funtown, most of the time I feel as if my life is in disarray. It is hard to adjust to these living conditions and to the fact that my day is scheduled by somebody else who could care less if I don’t feel like getting out of bed that day. This past week, we stayed out in the field from early morning to 4:30 am the next morning. I was exhausted, ready to say some of my “magic words” to the first person that crossed me but then I shut myself up and realized that at least I was still here; that the next day I could get up and make a call home with my cell phone and tell my family that I love them and miss them…Class 18 cannot do that anymore—at least not whenever they feel the need to.
So, to finish this post I will submit to you to appreciate the freedom that you have, the friendly and unfriendly neighbor, the long drive to the store, the crappy TV shows, the ease for people to find you by calling your cell phone, the road rage, the taxes and the ability to turn around and hug and tell your friends and family how much you appreciate them or how mad they make you when they don’t clean up after themselves. Those are the things I find to be missing here and the things I will miss there.
I will miss my baby son first day of school, my middle son growing and learning how school changes throughout the grades, my older son entering high school and learning to be a good young man. I will probably miss his first attempt to have a real girlfriend, if he decides to shave that little fuzz growing on top of his lips and how he decides to approach life as an adolescent. I will miss Sammy’s baseball games, his report cards, his school assemblies and the way I woke him every morning by laying beside him in bed while rubbing and kissing his head. I will miss Vance saying “Mom, I want you” and extending his tiny arms to me showing me just how much he needs me in his life. I will miss him falling sleep beside me and hanging on to my neck as to make sure that I will not leave him again, at least not when he is sleeping. I will miss Kabral telling me that he still needs my "lovings" and laying his head on my lap so I can tickle his back and rub his hair. I will miss Trace telling me I am the best cook in the world and the best Mom a boy can have. I will miss him working hard in the garden so I can be impressed and happy with all the flowers and trees he planted for me. I will miss my house, my home and for the whole time I am gone I will wish I was there.
This
video was taped in April when I went home for Easter Weekend. Kabral began to play guitar in January and by April he worked hard to learn to play Pink Floyd’s “Wish you Were Here” because he knew that this song was one of my favorites, ever. The night I came home, he sat down and played it for me and I could not help but to cry inconsolably until he was done when I could not stop myself from kissing him and hugging him. Enjoy….
I also want you all to see this
video. Remember all of us and give us your support by making good decision when you go to the vote. That is the way America shows its support for the troops.