In short I do not spend a lot of time dwelling on the bad, as in scary as hell, parts of being a military spouse. This is due to a 50/50 split between being a cold-heated-snake who can just ignore those parts of headline news, and the fact that not thinking about it all is a great defense mechanism. I think if I gave real though to just what I pack DH off to do on a daily basis, it might crush me and I have plenty of neurosis without needing to add that one to the list.
Now imagine when this broke, and it all hit a bit close to home. In summary a Navy E-2C Hawkeye crashed into the North Arabian Sea, three of the four crew members were located, the fourth remains missing and is now assumed dead. That fourth crew member: a classmate of my DH’s. The co-pilot, the last to evacuate when the time came, a class behind him.
I guess it just makes me a bit more thankful that the universe brought us to the submarine fleet and for the relative safety that position provides. I have now experienced, even if only briefly, what so many other spouses must feel all day every day, and I am not too good to say “thank the powers that be, it doesn’t have to be me.”
With that uncharacteristic bit of sentimentality off my chest, maybe now I can let it go. Tomorrow I can go back to being a snark machine while enjoying the