Tuesday, September 2, 2008
My Friend, My Love, My Soldier (part 4)
at 8:33 PM
My Love, continued...
After the romantic first date, we returned to my house. We talked and kissed for many hours. I had grabbed him for our first kiss after our dinner and stroll through the downtown square. As we sat facing each other on my couch, he caressed my face or twirled my hair with his fingers. He had a gentleness that I've never known with a man before. My heart was nearly leaping from my chest.
I loved that we still had the same that relaxed comfort level that we did in high school. He could still make me laugh out loud. All that night, he referred to me by my maiden name. (He still does.)
He'd say, "T is holding my hand." or "T is sitting next to me." It was so funny because there seemed to be no filter between his thoughts and his mouth. I liked it. The way he was that night was so honest and sweet.
He looked into my eyes and said, "T, I am very proud of the woman you've become. You are absolutely amazing. Your kids are great. Its adorable seeing you with them...."
I felt appreciated, for the first time in a very long time.
There was no way in hell that I was letting him get away.
When we decided that he was staying over, he nearly tore my clothes off of me. He told me how he had fantasized about certain areas of my body for 22 years. Was he trying to make up for lost time?? (Yay me!)
I have something that occurs when I feel deeply for a man. When we have sex, I will experience what I call a crying orgasm. With my love, it happened that night, the very first time we were together. That's never happened the first time with anyone before. I told him then that it happened all the time. I couldn't believe I was already falling...
The next morning I had to go to work. My kids had no idea that I had a man in my bed. I left him on the other side of the bed, propped pillows around him and told him to go back to sleep. My children, who, at 5 & 2, followed me around like baby ducks, only saw pillows on my bed and nothing looked unusual to them.
When we were ready to leave, I loaded up the girls in the car and went back inside to let him know that we were leaving. He kissed me and complimented me on what I was wearing. I told him that I'd cooked some biscuits if he was hungry and that he could leave through the garage door.
I went back into the living room to gather my things and there he was, in his beautiful nakedness, wandering into my kitchen to have a biscuit.
"Do you have any honey?"
Um, yeah. I have honey in the pantry. Seriously? I have to leave and there's a hot naked man standing in my kitchen eating biscuits and honey? Ok, that's not fair at all!
Later in the day while I tried to concentrate at work, he called me. I heard his deep voice say the sexiest two words... "Hey baby."
That's when I first noticed the Pavlovian responses. That boy turns me on.
Because he lived 2 1/2 hours away, we only saw each other on the weekends. His family still lives in the area and he was already making weekend trips to spend time with them. Some of the weekends he was here, I had to drive back to my birthplace to visit with my father, whose health was declining rapidly.
I was frightened about the emotions I was feeling, both for my father and my new love. Still, when we would see each other or talk, everything in my world looked a little brighter. I felt selfish, at times, because I didn't want to be sad anymore. I only wanted to be with my love and escape this world of sadness, where people suffer and die.
My love wanted to escape too. The last thing he wanted was to deploy back to Iraq. He had only just returned from a year long deployment 9 months earlier. The only thing that the two of us looked forward to was that promised weekend at the end of September.
He had planned a romantic getaway at an exclusive hotel downtown. He was excited about bringing me to a family dinner where, once again, I'd get to visit with his parents for the first time since I was 16 years old. I was going to watch him compete in a triathlon on Sunday morning and we would spend the afternoon at his younger brother's house. He couldn't wait to share me with his family. I couldn't wait either.
Over the next few weeks, we saw each other when we could. He could still make me laugh even while I fought off sickness from physical and emotional exhaustion. I drove back home to see my dad quite a bit and it was taking its toll on me. My love was always supportive and nurturing. We talked, probably even more than we made love. I knew that I couldn't see my life without him. He began to talk about the future with me as well; did I see myself marrying again? Did I want more children?
A few times that he came over, my kids were around too. They ADORED him. He would pick them up and spin them around and of course, they would say, "Do it again!!" He even picked me up and spun me around. They loved that! (I didn't. I get dizzy.) When it was their bedtime, they insisted he say goodnight. I stood in their doorway one night as he sat between their beds and read them a bedtime story. It was the most gorgeous he has ever looked to me.
I never questioned whether or not he should be around my children. He was my friend. It felt completely normal for him to know my children as well.
The Tuesday before our weekend, I went out shopping at my favorite lingerie store. I wanted to look absolutely delicious for my love for all that he was doing for me.
Later that night, something told me to call home to check on my dad. My sister and brother were there and put the phone to his ear so that I could say hello. He had been in a near constant state of sedation for a couple of days. It was only a matter of time.
Less than 2 hours later, I received the phone call. My father had died.
One of the many phone calls I made that night included my love. With gentle understanding, he nurtured me with loving words over the phone. I had to break the news to him that our weekend wouldn't happen as planned. I was going back home to attend my father's service on Saturday.
He said that he would cancel the hotel room but asked if he could at least come and stay with me on Friday night. I couldn't wait to see him and be in his arms again.
Thursday night, he called. With longing in his voice, he said, "I am packing. In less than 24 hours, we will be together again."
Friday, I was numb. I couldn't stand it any longer. Nearly every hour, I was talking to my love on the phone. "How much further?" He still had to drive up from his post to get to my house.
When he finally entered my door that Friday night, we held each other as if the entire world was crashing down around us.
And over the next few days, it nearly did.
To be continued....