I keep replaying over and over again in my head the last hug we shared before you left. The last kiss before you left. letting go of you was unbearable.
I had you and you were here. With me. My head fits snugly in the groove of your neck. You smell unbelievably good - Its torture. I can't bare to let you go. With your hand on the small of my back you hold me tight, your other hand caresses my hair which hangs messily. I remember whispering to you rhetorical questions "why do you have to go?" You simply replied the same answer you say every time "I have to, Babe." I knew you had too. But I will protest for the sake of protesting. To let you know just how much I don't want you to go again.
I stand back and look up to you. You smile back and tell me you love me. I force a smile in attempt to hide my obvious pain. It can't have been very convincing you pull me close to you once again and hug me so tight I can't breath for a moment. But I'm not complaining. Being on the receiving end of your hug is far more important.
You really have to go now. With a final kiss, I turn my back on you and walk away. I don't turn around and wave goodbye, in fear you will see tears forming in my eyes.
You haven't even been gone a week yet and I'm waiting for a letter from you. Seems like I haven't been in contact with you for ages.
I remember laying in bed next to you one of those fortunate four nights you were home, thinking of hypothetical scenarios to make you stay.
"What if I was in some sort of horrific car crash and ended up in a coma with little chance of waking up?"
"I wouldn't go back to the Army - I would stay by your side until you woke up."
"What if they wanted to turn off life support?"
"Wouldnt fucking let them"
I replied sarcastically "...So thats what I have to do."
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