One Last Goodbye

Dear, Chief (AKA hamsy, hubs, sweet-cheeks):

How many goodbyes have I said? I’m guessing the number is in the thousands. It started when I left home at 17 for my first year of college and will continue long after you read this. When we married, you had eight years of military service under your belt, and I had no idea what I was in for as a military spouse. I learned quickly. I learned that military families are used to saying the word goodbye. You were gone as much as you were home the first five years of our marriage, and while it was never easy, we found a way to make it work for our family.

This week, we’re saying goodbye again. Not for a deployment. Not for a TDY. Not for a PCS. This week we’re saying goodbye to the Army.

In just a few short days, you will honorably end your 22+ year career as a soldier for the U.S. Army, and I’m overwhelmed with what exactly that means for us, and to be completely honest, I’m experiencing quite a bit of separation anxiety over it.

What a ride this has been. We’ve navigated a lot of highs and a lot of lows. We’ve got amazing kids that have learned to love travel and exploration. They can make friends anywhere, and their names sit next to the word resilient in the dictionary. We’ve created memories and traditions and a life that isn’t the norm. Remember when little Munchkin saw the hotel sign and excitedly exclaimed, “We’re home!” and we laughed because we’d spent more time in hotel rooms than in a house for the past year?

Our family didn’t just experience military life. We lived it. We lived every request your command made and every assignment given. We lived every move and every goodbye. We lived on three continents before our kids even hit their teen years. We lived through mice in our houses, broken furniture, new cultures, lost bags, 20-hour layovers, homecomings at midnight in our pajamas, flooded yards, countless amazing neighbors, four combat uniform patterns, three PT uniform changes, and two Class A and Class B styles. We lived the Army morals and values. We lived the fear and worry of wars that seem never-ending. And with all of that living came a deep pride in who we are, what we stand for, and why we would do all that.

We’ve spent the past three months talking nonstop about retirement planning, finances, benefits, life insurance, forever homes, new jobs, and living costs. We’ve spent so much time planning that we’ve forgotten to take time to start our goodbyes. We’re at the point of no return. There’s no going backward. You’ve already started clearing for the last time. We’ve taken our family retirement photos. And remember that conversation we just had about what you want to do on your first day of retirement? It’s so fitting that it falls on April 1. It’s almost like the last big prank the Army is going to play on us, and for some reason, you’ll be called into work.

As we start to navigate this great unknown of retired life, here are just a few things I want you to remember. While we lived every moment right along with you, we also loved each other fiercely. We laughed at the craziness we’ve dubbed “Armyness,” and we’ve learned so much patience, kindness, and grace for each other. I’m so proud of you. I’m so proud of what you’ve done over the past 20+ years. I know it wasn’t always easy. I’ll even admit to making it incredibly hard. There were moments I wanted to give it all back to you and walk away. But we stuck it out. You helped me navigate those days and now we’re here saying goodbye to all of it and wishing we had maybe just a little more time to adjust to our new role that doesn’t include the words “active duty.”

Some things will never change. I’ll always remember your social security number. I’m sure we’ll find those elastic bootstraps our kids call “wormies” hidden in weird places for years to come. We’ll have our
long-lasting friendships that are really more like family. We may never make it through that plastic bin of old cords and chargers. And, I’ll still probably kill our plants, only this time, I won’t have an impending PCS to blame it on.

Despite a global pandemic eliminating a well-deserved retirement ceremony, in three short days, as you say your final goodbyes to co-workers and friends, you can walk away from this Army life with your head held high (wearing whatever uniform you want) and give a final salute for your final out.

And then we’ll welcome the first day of retirement properly with a day’s growth of a beard.

Congratulations, Chief, on a job well done. Welcome to retirement.