Loving a man serving
active duty
in the military is
a special kind of
hell. He's
sent away when
he's told,
to do as he's told, for
as long as he's told.
The only certainty
is that he will go.
Loving a man
serving in the military
reserve is a different
kind of hell. He's
away for one weekend
a month, two days of
30, for drill practice and
meetings. That's
nothing.
It's
certain, it's constant, it's
dependable. But when
he has the option to
go away for
6-9 months at a time, to
leave for longer than
those two days of 30,
that's when the
hell begins.
He's notified, he
applies, he's approved,
he's notified of
paperwork which
never comes,
he's harrassed
day in and day out by
civilian and military
supervisors about
when he's
going where and
for how long and "where's
the paperwork
already"
and nothing is
certain. You never
know if he's going
or not until it's too late to
make him cute deployment
gifts or arrange a
going-away party. That
is where the hell
begins.
