Goodbye ceremony

The countdown here is finally finishing up. We have now entered the 72 hour window for leaving, and this will probably be the last post I make before I fly over the pond and into the land of sand and camels. Finally- the real journey can begin.


We had our "goodbye" ceremony for our unit this afternoon. This was the absolute last time that we would be together as a Combat Support Hospital since the flights out begin soon. Standing there in formation with my Brothers and Sisters I found it hard to look across the parade field at all the families sitting there watching us. I admit that it was by my own choice that I did not have family or friends there today- I never even told my own mother about the ceremony. Honestly, I just couldn't go through another round of goodbyes. The first time was emotionally draining enough, and I didn't think that I could handle it again. Yet, even though I knew none of the chairs was filled with a member of my own family I did not feel alone. I have a new family within this unit, my unit. I sense of belonging that I feel with these people is amazing. Three weeks ago we were strangers, and today we would die for each other.



I couldn't help but think about the family that was there at the ceremony though, sitting in the sun on a hot October afternoon. I have been in their role before, and I think that it was honestly harder to be the one left behind. The absolute heartbreak that they are going through now is nothing like what us soldiers are going through. Talking with a friend at lunch we discussed how we felt right now...or more accurately the lack of what we feel. I am so drained, numb, and detached from everything. Perhaps the numbness is a self-protection mechanism. Numb is better than hurt and distressed. I can handle numb.



Last night Laura and I went to Olive Garden for dinner, and then afterwards went into the Petsmart next to the restaurant. We are both cat lovers, and soon found ourselves in the adoption room petting the kitties through the bars of their metal cages. It may sound crazy, but those 15 minutes with a room full of homeless cats was the most therapeutic and relaxing 15 minutes I have had in a long time. A cat's purr can cure all all the illnesses of the world. I admit that I miss my cat, Meatball, so much that I really don't have words to express it. She would snuggle with me every night, and falling asleep without her seems so empty.


Tonight I am going to get the majority of my final packing done and finishing writing my name on everything I own with a Sharpie marker. Everything is going to get labeled, including my socks. Ha! Seriously though, I don't want any of my things to get lost or stolen, and the purpose of the Sharpie name-tag is to help prevent both.