Hi Dad.  Seems I always write you when something is wrong, doesn’t it?  My latest dilemma is something I’ve known about for quite some time, but despite that,  it has snuck up on me anyways.  I am probably the scardest I have ever been in my life, and I just don’t know what to do with myself.

So, first, nothing is “wrong”.  Not in the urgent sense of the matter.  But my ability to deal with it is probably the biggest issue.  So, what’s the big deal, you ask?  It’s simple.

My son, R, has joined the Marines.  And he leaves for basic training in the morning.

I know, logically, that I should just relax.  He’s leaving in the morning and he’ll be gone for 12 weeks while he undergoes basic training.  And then he’ll be home for 10 days.  What happens after that is more fuzzy.  Goes for more combat training, then off to his MOS training.  We’re not at “war” right now, so he’s not heading directly into some fire zone somewhere.

But that’s not my worry, things aren’t that simple.  You know that I’ve been raising my kids, single-handedly, for the last 16 years.  My son has been in my life every single day for those last 16 years (well, the years before that, as well, but as a single parent with sole custody its been 16 years), and I have made it my job to try and raise and protect him as best I can.  I’ve done that for all of my little ones.  But, here we are now.  He’s leaving in the morning and I find myself sitting here in tears because I… well, I don’t know how to explain it in only a few words.

It’s possible that it’s about him, and if he even knows what he’s signed up for.  He’s smart, so I have a hard time believing that he just doesn’t know.  Just how well he understands, however, I’m not as sure.  Furthermore, he’s never been the kind of person you would expect to sign up for the armed forces.  He’s always been the bookworm and video game player, he’d rather be inside on the couch instead of outside playing.  And now he’s signed the next 8 years of his life over to the Marines.  I can’t help him where he is going, and that’s just killing me.  I’d step in front and do the next 8 years for him, if it were that simple, in a heartbeat.  But I can’t.  This is something only he can do.  And, I know chances are that everything will be fine and that he’ll come out of this stronger than he went in, but that’s not going to keep me from being on edge for the next 8 years.

It’s also possible that it has to do with the fact that he is the first to leave home.  Sure, he’ll be back, but this is really the end of his childhood, as it was.  This is his first step out into the real world, and I know he’ll just make some short visits back before he’s permanently out on his own.  Not that I ever thought he would live with me forever, but this day has always been in the future, and suddenly it’s not anymore.  And he is just the beginning, as I’m sure the floodgates will open as all the birds start leaving the nest.  It’s been just me and them against the world for so long, I don’t know what the world without them with me every day is going to look like.

Another possibility is that this is probably the last time I see my son the way he is now.  The intelligent, goofy, happy-go-lucky, innocent boy that he is.  I’ve watched him grow and mature his whole life.  I love my son the way he is, and this is going to change him in ways I just can’t yet imagine.  I know whatever happens will make him grow even more as an individual, and he will be the better for it.  But I love my son, and I know that I’ll be saying goodbye to this version of him for the last time in the morning.  I feel this sense of loss that I know isn’t rational, but it’s there nonetheless.

Who am I kidding?  I’m sure it’s all of the above, and each one of them is effecting me in on a different emotional level, and the combination of all three is really doing a number on me.

Tomorrow’s going to be really tough.  All of his siblings have made arrangements so they can all go with us to drop him off and say goodbye, which is good.  I’m going to be a wreck (I already am), so having them close will help.  We spent the last week or so spending a little more time with each other, since we both knew this was coming.  I really didn’t want it to end, but we’re there.

So here I am, standing on the ledge of the unknown.  Trying to peer into a future that I could not possible perceive.   I’m sad he is leaving.  I’m so ever proud of him for bravely making a commitment to our country.  I’m going to miss seeing him every day more than I can even possibly put into words.

And I’m scared.