Dear Alex,
As I sit here on this first night of your deployment, the emptiness of our home weighs heavily on my heart. I already miss you more than words can express. Just this evening, I returned from work, and the thought that you wouldn’t be by my side hit me like a wave. Our little one, Mia, was just as oblivious, excitedly chatting about the new drawing she created at school, eager to show it to you. Another sigh escapes me.
These initial days are always the toughest. The routine feels foreign, and our hearts are still heavy from the goodbye. I find myself anxious over when we will hear from you next or when we will see your familiar face again. The reality of our situation is particularly challenging now that we have Mia, who is old enough to sense the absence but too young to fully grasp it.
Tonight is undeniably the hardest. Tomorrow, I will dive into my deployment to-do list, as I always do. No matter the length of your absence or the unexpected timing, I have a plan: tidy this, organize that, learn this, do that.
But for now, this first night is for reflection. I’m sipping a glass of wine that would taste so much better if you were here, surrounded by the silence of our home.
Earlier, I tucked Mia into bed—yes, our bed, since co-sleeping is now out the window. I read her three extra bedtime stories, trying to help her understand that you wouldn’t be home tonight, tomorrow, or for many nights to come. I didn’t do well in explaining it. Instead, I watched her drift off to sleep, clutching your pillow and her favorite daddy doll, peeking at me to ensure I was still there.
Tomorrow, I plan to streamline our bedtime routine and use the evenings to catch up on chores, emails, and perhaps even a few episodes of my favorite shows. But tonight, on this first night of deployment, the house feels far too quiet without you. I wish I could just watch Mia sleep in the space you usually occupy.
Tomorrow, I’ll worry about the toys left scattered around the house, my writing project, and connecting with other military families for support. I’ll plan our weekly errands, work on your first care package, and attempt to figure out meal planning for our picky toddler. I’ll also carve out time for my fitness routine, which—let’s be real—is how I cope with stress.
I’ll make a list of the mundane tasks I’ve overlooked, like renewing license tags or remembering recycling days. Most importantly, I’ll find ways to keep Mia connected to you during your time away. I want her to feel your presence, even from afar.
Tomorrow, I’ll make a cleaning schedule to hold myself accountable, and I’ll work on articulating the sadness that both Mia and I feel from your absence during our family meals or evening walks. I’ll also start reorganizing the spaces I’ll be spending the most time in while you’re gone—just know that it might drive you crazy when you return.
Tomorrow, I’ll re-learn what it means to be a solo parent, and while I’ll still miss you, I hope I’ll feel less burdened by it. I’ll begin to adjust to this new normal of juggling life without you by my side.
As I sit here tonight, I’m filled with gratitude for the sacrifices you make for our family. I miss you deeply, but I’m also incredibly proud to be your partner. This will never change.
Fair winds and following seas, my love. Until we meet again.
Your devoted wife,