Deployment-The Final Phone Call Home

You can’t understand or comprehend the intensity of waiting for a phone call that you pray will come, yet anticipate with the worst dreaded fear you can possibly imagine. You know it is coming. You simply do not know when.

Leaving the house even for a minute is out of the question; petrified that you will find a blinking light on your answering machine upon your return.

The ringing of the phone causes you to reach out so quickly you almost become light-headed. On the other end is your son, your only son… the child you have raised alone since he was four-years-old because his father died.

You hear his words cut through thousands of miles of wire.
“Hi Mom. I’m leaving at 4 am. I’m okay. I don’t know when I’ll get to call you again.” As he speaks, you hold your breath.

Suddenly, you pick up the slightest hint of nervousness in his speech, and you try to allay his fears by making small talk and even jokes, praying that you will detect a hint of a smile in his voice. Somehow, you manage to laugh and talk about inconsequential things in life, as you feel your eyes begin to fill, your heart start to shatter into tiny shreds that nothing can mend.

He asks you to send sunglasses and sunscreen, toothbrushes and toothpaste, Irish Spring soap, and a calendar to mark the days.

“Check out a cruise Mom, maybe Jamaica, where we can meet when I get leave. I haven’t been to California yet. Think you can get there? See what you can find, Mom” You promise to check the Internet for a place you can both afford, just so you can spend a week together before he has to return to his job: United States Soldier.

Your voice threatens to vibrate; your tears are dangerously close to escaping. One deep breath later, you regain control and continue, as you realize your time is growing short. Warning words escape your lips. “Be careful. Watch your back. Watch your buddy’s back”

A mere ten minutes have passed: the longest and shortest of time. You begin to memorize each word, every voice inflection, realizing that this might be the last time you ever hear the sound of his voice.

The conversation draws to a close…ending with “I love you” from both ends and a distance that only tears can measure. You hang up the phone but cannot let it go. It is the only thing in the world that you have to hold onto. You are alone. There is no one to hold you while you cry… no one to comfort you. There is no shoulder to rest your head on as your body begins to spasm with uncontrollable sobs.

How do you explain the utter devastation you feel knowing that your son… your Soldier…is waiting on the tarmac to board a plane bound for a war zone? You notice that you still have the phone in your hand, hoping it will ring again just so you can say, “I love you, my Son,” one more time.

The minutes tick by. You can hear the sound of the clock keeping rhythm with your battered heart as you place the phone back on its cradle.

Now, you glance at the clock and calculate the time difference so you will know the exact second of his departure. Being aware of the very moment he will leave the ground, allows you to look to the sky, knowing that he is seeing the same sky, and you “will” your heart wings, strong and graceful enough to reach him. You believe your own heart will protect him, keep him safe, and keep him alive no matter where he goes. He is a part of you, and now you have become a part of him.

The time arrives and you step outside, frightened and alone. A force attempts to pull you back in, where curling into a tight ball, one so tight you can’t breathe, would actually lessen the pain. You dismiss the temptation and find yourself leaning on the rail of the deck, staring at the sky. The wood, on which you rest, begins to shake with the tremble of your body.

The night glistens with silver stars and neon lights from planes with unknown destinations. Through misty eyes, you search for one plane, despite the knowledge that the aircraft you seek, has taken flight through clouds thousands of miles away…destined for a place you can’t even fathom.

You select one set of flashing lights that your eyes will follow until they disappear from sight. Your nails embed themselves into wood as you pray... “Dear God... “

Copyright 2006 Arlene O’Neil All Rights Reserved

Arlene R. O'Neil is the very proud parent of a US Soldier, and Author of "Broken Spokes," a soon to be released novel. In addition to being an author, Arlene is a self-employed editor and proofreader and is a regular contributor to www.goarmyparents.com. A member of several blind dog lists, Arlene is involved in animal rescue and transport. Currently, she resides in Connecticut, and may be contacted at arleneoneil@aol.com