Half of my heart is walking around Rome right now (soon to be on its way to London & eventually will land in Reno where it’ll travel another 30 minutes to Truckee). The other half of my heart is here, in Firenze, working hard in a 6th grade classroom. I am the true definition of heartbroken.
We dropped off Stephen yesterday evening & there were tears all around—so many tears. I don’t think in my adult life I’ve ever had a bigger urge to scream & koala bear myself to someone’s leg while begging “please don’t go!!!!!”. But, we did what we needed to do & parted ways for, likely, the next 2.5 months.
I am in disbelief that the man I so deeply love & cherish & respect & quite simply adore will live thousands of miles from us. He’ll go about his daily life & we’ll go about ours, sharing moments only via text or WhatsApp video or phone chats. Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine we’d have a scenario that could separate us in such a way -- & an even bigger kicker: it’s by choice (sort of).
You see, we made this grand plan to do year #2 in Italy last February over an extravagant, Italian pranzo (lunch), complete with wine, pasta, pizza & dolce (dessert). Fast forward a few weeks & Covid engulfed Italy so rather than settling in for our extended stay, we hurriedly packed & returned home (just days before all flights to the US evaporated). Shortly after our self-isolation Stephen went back to work, purchased a truck & jumped back into our old life while Caiden & I gazed achingly at our expat life. Stephen & I also decided that Italy was/is a far better choice for our child's schooling than Truckee/California. And the rest, as they say, is history.
This time of separation has me thinking about people - couples, families (i.e. military) - who are distanced for much longer stretches of time; one year, two years, perhaps more. I am utterly mystified at how they do it, especially given that they likely cannot enjoy the daily sanity-saving technologies like WhatsApp, FaceTime, email etc. I do not walk a mile in their shoes, but only a few steps, & let me say—these are icky & uncomfortable shoes indeed. And these folks wear said ‘shoes’ because of their desire to protect us, to protect our country, to honor, to serve. Some of them have missed the birth(s) of their children, first steps, first days of school (when those used to happen), anniversaries, birthdays & so on. I cannot imagine this & as I walked home after dropping Caiden off at school this morning, lost in my myriad of thoughts, I said an extra prayer of thanks to the faceless military families who put their families second & country first; such an incredible sacrifice.
It’s fascinating that in life we really cannot understand what someone else is going through until we encounter it ourselves. Months ago I wouldn’t have given 2 seconds thought to a military family & how difficult their dynamic must be, but today they’re top of mind.
Last year around this time one of my dearest girlfriends lost her father suddenly & unexpectedly. I reached out to her upon hearing the news & one of her first comments was that she was so sorry she wasn’t there for me after the passing of my Mom, a few years prior. I was stunned that she was concerned about me and my long-settled grief in her darkest hours—but, then again, that’s just the way this gal is. I told her that she did fine, sincerely—that she didn’t let me down in any way. I completely understood/understand that absorbing death & really, truly, fully understanding the depth of the pain cannot happen until one has experienced it him or herself. I turned to friends who had lost parents -- & we cried together. Those same friends sent the texts & made the calls & left the voicemails to assure I was still functioning under that stiflingly heavy blanket of sorrow. But, I told her, now that she knows better, she can do better & be there for the next of her friends who loses a loved one. She was now part of a club that nobody desires admittance into, but one that’s enormously important all the same.
Anyhow, all of my ramblings probably boil down to just two things—one: let’s exercise more compassion; every day, everywhere, with everybody. It’s a pretty tall order & kind of cliché too, but we simply do not know what someone else is going through & even if we did, we may not have yet walked a mile in those shoes to genuinely understand it. But that doesn’t mean we can’t offer an extra smile, a kinder approach, an unanticipated invitation to that struggling someone – rather than a judgement or ‘space’ or selfish, uncomfortable avoidance.
Number two: appreciate your spouse -- the gift of simply being together & having eachother. Waking up to the warmth of him/her beside you in bed, a drowsy morning hug, a helping hand putting a child’s lunchbox together, a teammate to coordinate the who drops off/picks up whom when, & where, a partner in the kitchen to prep a meal or clean up after dinner dishes, a companion with whom you can grab a morning cappuccino or settle in beside for a video, easy conversation or shared stories of the trials of the day.
I honestly hate that half my heart will soon board a British Airways flight & exist thousands of miles from me/us, but I also have a renewed appreciation for the wonderful man I get to call mine & the deep, strong love we have that allows us to, at times, walk different paths but always in love, & always together.
Buon viaggio, mi amore & a presto—see you soon.
Hugs... and tears. 💕
Bittersweet.