Tonight, I realized that there’s more than one meaning to “hanging it up.”
It could mean a lot of things.
“Hanging up” a bad habit
“Hanging up” a career direction
“Hanging up” a relationship gone bad
“Hanging up” a picture
“Hanging up” a hobby
“Hanging up” clothes.
I did all of our laundry today.
There was so much and I got really behind during all of our Iraq preparations. Quite honestly, everything went to pot once we made our decision for him to go.
As I took the last load out of the dryer, I realized..I have it..what every military wife has experienced at least once..
The last outfit they wore before they left.
Ugh. My heart sank. It was like, he was standing right in front of me.
It was the outfit he wore to church.
I was experiencing what I had experienced so many times over.
The kids were in the playroom.
It was ok to cry.
I hugged the clothes as if they were him.
I told myself, “I have to hang them up.”
I took the rest out of the dryer, walked into my living room, where my couch has become my folding table. I dropped the clothes and walked away to get the ones that had fallen. I sniffled as I walked, reminding myself that he wasn’t here to put his clothes away.
He’s in Kuwait now, or at least from what I heard at 1pm today. He logged onto gmail chat to let me know he was waiting in line for his Visa to be processed. They were on number 290. He was 344. Suddenly, he had to log off to pack up his laptop. It was almost his turn. I had enough time to scold him to get his butt to a hotel to get some rest before his military transport was to come. He said the usual, “nah, I’m fine.” I have a feeling he’s sleeping at the airport as we speak, still waiting for his flight. It’s 7am there now.
All I know now is that he was reporting to his contact person in Kuwait City.
I reinforced that he MUST call me at his next location, or at least send me an email.
So..that too..I must “hang up.” Hang up the emotions, hang up the worrying.
