The Hardest Part of Long Distance Marriage

My husband is my best friend and when he is gone it is hard. But, let’s be real here. Let’s not dance around the emotions of it. I get this question a lot, “Isn’t it hard?” Followed by, “How do you do it?” I think I’ve already begun to answer the latter, so let me address the former. 

When you both work long hours you can fall into a monotony of banter about who does the dishes and who cleaned the toilet last. You can begin to take each other’s presence for granted. In the days after my husband took his traveling job I let the house stay dirty. I worked the longest shifts I could take, but then my first weekend hit. There had been no one to help pick up the slack and the house was in chaos. So, naturally, I cleaned and I felt invigorated thinking it might stay clean a bit longer than normal. 
But then I missed it all. His presence was more than just him. It was his habits and the trail he left behind him everywhere. I missed his socks and his dishes, and the sound of him watching is shows on the tv as I lulled to sleep. The house was silent and the bed was cold. He wasn’t there to play catch with the dogs or feed them when I fell asleep early. You waste a lot more coffee when you are just brewing for one person. I missed his toothbrush next to mine. 
Of course, I missed the our late night conversations and quick exchanges before heading out the door. Beyond that, I even missed the way his sweat smelled after a long day’s work. I missed being able to watch his eyes flutter while he slept late in the mornings. 
Sure, it is hard doing it all alone, but I can figure out how to shower while my infant cries and how to shop with a baby that always wants to be held. I can change my own light bulbs, work a drill, and run the household. I even had to stop working because I couldn’t handle working motherhood without him at my side. Still yet, the hardest part for me is missing those bear hugs from the guy who will always pick me up when I’m falling to pieces, whose touch is medicine to my soul. That, my dear readers, is the absolute hardest part. 


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