The deployment begins

The week leading up to Yoni's deployment had such an odd feel to it.
On one hand it was wonderful to have him home so much.  He spent more time with the kids in those last four days than he had been able to do in the past few months (if not more).  I had to mentally balance the joy at his presence and involvement with the nudging in the back of my head that all of this intensive time will make the transition that much more difficult for the kids (and me as well).

We mentioned to Adina once on Tuesday night that Aba would be leaving soon to fly the airplane to help people (in hopes she would start mentally preparing), and she stayed up until 9:30 in her crib "thinking."  Then Wednesday arrived.  Since she had been up so late, we had to wake her at 9:00 AM to get to gymnastics class, and then she promptly fell asleep when she got home, and we had to wake both of the kids at 1:30 to head to the Air Force Base.  She seemed very excited at first to see Aba's work and eat ice cream and see the airplane.

Then we watched Aba walk out to the airplane and waved goodbye.

I really can't decide if this was a good idea in retrospect and if we would do it again.  It made the goodbye process seem very drawn out and dramatic.  At the same time, this environment also encourages a happy goodbye rather than a sad one.  But that seemed to make the next day that much harder for me.

Without allowing myself to feel the sad emotions as I said goodbye, I felt them that much more strongly when I woke up Thursday morning and realized I wouldn't get to see Yoni for a few months.  

This allowed me to see another layer in the beauty of Adina's age and her perspective.  She can't comprehend the concept that she won't see him for such a long time.  She can truly take day by day without seeing the future days ahead of her.

While I was feeling emotional this morning, I had a very important realization.

First let me give a little background on the thought process.

For those not familiar with this time of year on the Jewish calendar, we are currently in "the nine days."  These "nine days" are the days between the first day of the month of Av and the ninth of Av.  The 9th of Av, or "Tisha b'Av" is the saddest day of the year, as we remember the destruction of the Temple (and countless other sad events in history which all occur on this auspicious day).  During the 9 days, the gemara explains that we should "lessen our joy."  We don't listen to music, we don't eat meat, and there are numerous other customs which serve as a constant reminder of the mourning.

This week I read an article on Aish.com, by Emuna Braverman on her experience with feeling this sadness.  She said she could never understand the concept of a "constant sadness" until she had the very difficult experience of losing an infant grand daughter.  Now, she says, at every happy occasion, at every moment, she feels the tragedy.  This, she said, is the kind of underlying sadness we should feel in not meriting to rebuild the Temple in Jerusalem.

Today I understood what she meant.  Yes, we went about our normal routine, but behind every smile I had an underlying sadness at Yoni's absence.  The world continued on, unaware of our complete shift and transition to an Aba-less home.  But to us it is very real at every moment.

In the moments of tears, I felt for a minute what grief and loss could feel like.  And then I had a moment of intense gratitude that with G-d's help, this is temporary.  This intense sadness will be balanced with an equally intense joy at his return home.

In another Aish article I read today, an author was able to so eloquently convey the beauty of sadness in our lives.

In an excerpt, she writes...

Dear tears, versatile as you are, from somewhere in the past or right here in the present, as you make your way into my life, and then out again, please make sure the trail you leave goes all the way up back to God, so that when I look at you, I can follow your flow. And I can remember where I come from, and where I'm going. And I can remember that everything that transpires is orchestrated by the Grand Gardener who will sometimes water me with tears, so that I can grow...