Each of Michael's deployments landed on the same time schedule. Deploy to Iraq in January/February. Come home for R&R sometime around August, be home for 2 weeks. Then finally come home the next January. His first deployment, he walked into my arms on January 31st, my birthday. His last deployment he got to come home early because he was PCSing in February. So he was home on December 8th.
This time of year is usually when I would be anxiously waiting for him to get home. I would feel the rush of anticipation run through my body 24/7. It was annoying and frustrating and time always seemed to drag on longer. Counting down the days, hours, minutes, seconds for him to step foot off of that notorious white bus. I just wanted him home and I always felt like I could not wait a second longer to lay eyes on him.
For some reason, I am feeling that exact same way. I feel it in my whole mind, body and soul - the anticipation for something that will never come. It's so much more frustrating now because I know there is no light at the end of this tunnel. Heaven doesn't have white buses that you step out of to your loved ones. I know he's gone, so why am I feeling this way? Is it just this time of the year? Is my body just used to feeling this way because of the past?
Everyone who is further out than me always told me that going into the second year is so much worse than the first year. Holy shit, they were completely right. That stupid fog has lifted and I am feeling every bit of pain that I didn't feel before. And this whole anticipation for Michael's arrival that will never be is really throwing me for a loop. I hate it. I hate that this was our fate. I would give up anything in the world to have him back.