The Beginning

My dad was an Army brat, why would he want me to go through the same pain? The kind of pain that clouds memories, obscures judgment, and ruins childhood. My earliest memories of being an Army brat were in first grade. I remember saying goodbye and that was it. A complete absence of pain- just words. My mom explained he was serving his country in Iraq, and he would be home soon. I can recall people asking where my dad was and I proudly answer, “In Iraq!” I wasn’t happy he was gone, but I wasn’t upset either. I partly think because I was unaware of what occurred in Iraq. I never watched the news, I was only seven. I didn’t read the newspaper; I could barely read children’s books. I lacked the knowledge of what was happening, and I remained happy.





First Grade

That year for Christmas, my Mom arranged for my first grade class to make welcome home signs for the soldiers who would be returning from Iraq soon. I remember coloring and feeling jealousy that it wasn’t my dad who would be returning. I quickly disregarded the feeling and finished my poster. That weekend my mom, I, and other military families who had also made posters went onto the base we were currently stationed at; Fort Hood, in Killeen Texas. We went to the soldier’s barracks and began taping the homemade posters on each door. I ran wild through the empty barracks with other military children. That was a benefit of having military friends; there were constantly kids who understood what I was going through. I had fun with them. All of our dads worked in the same company and were deployed together. We all sat in the same boat.





A Mystery Soldier

A year seemed to pass within a blink. I finished first grade and was excited to move on. Second grade was an awful year, not because my dad was still deployed but because we spent the whole year writing stories, I hated writing. We sat in class working on our next story when I was pulled of out class early by my mom. I wasn’t expecting to leave early, but I didn’t complain. We drove to the familiar army base. We rarely came here anymore unless we were going to the PX or the commissary. I started to become suspicious. I had no sense of time regarding my dad’s deployment; I had no clue when he would return. I asked my mom what we were doing, feeling the excitement build up. She simply replied, “We have to pick up one your dads soldiers.” All excitement- gone. We parked and headed up the sidewalk. Hundreds of people stood in the bleachers with their families and posters saying “Welcome Home!” My anger and jealousy began to rage. I quickly became distracted by the beautiful black horses that were fully dressed and mounted. The riders dressed in the First Calvary Division riding suit. My dad belonged to the First Calvary, or the First Cav. The iconic yellow and black patch had been painted in the middle of the grassy field. I loved the First Cav. I could feel the pride. At the time, the Military brought us together. One by one, white buses parked along the side walk of the street parallel to the bleachers. The soldiers, hundreds of them, filed out and stood in formation. The crowd cheered. Announcements and speeches were made. At that point I sat in boredom and jealousy. Eventually the announcer said “Welcome home soldiers! Now find your families!” and with that the place immediately took the appearance of an upset anthill. My mom told me to stay seated and she’d be back. She left to find the soldier. I sat and thought about the day when my dad would come home. My thoughts were interrupted by my mom calling my name. I turned to face her and saw the soldier, my dad.
That was the first time I saw my dad cry. I then realized that I never wanted to lose him again.







Second Time Around

He was home for a year, then gone again. I had started the fourth grade and I understood more things about what our soldiers do while deployed, what my dad does and sees everyday he’s gone. I saw the pictures of him wearing a bullet proof vest, a helmet, and across his chest a gun hung. I worried more this time. I realized something I never had before, he might not come home. The boys in my class would talk about wanting to go to war and I couldn’t help but become enraged. They didn’t know what they were talking about. They didn’t realize the pain that the families go through, they had never seen pictures of fallen soldiers, they had never had to say goodbye. My military friends had moved away. I was alone this time. No one understood what I was going through, and no one cared to ask how I was doing. There was one person, a girl the same age as me whose dad was also in the Army. I never considered her a military friend though, our dads didn’t work together, and her dad had never deployed. When I told her about my dad she didn’t understand, why would she? I became mad at her. How could by dad risk his life twice while her dad has done nothing? It wasn’t fair.
Fourth grade passed and fifth grade dragged on. My dad had been gone for a year now, normally a deployment would be over then, but that year all deployments were extended to fifteen months. The extension was just another unfair part of the Army. The remaining three months passed and again I was pulled out of school early. We arrived at the same field I had been at just two years ago. The ceremony was the same and after what seemed like a lifetime I hugged my dad for the first time in fifteen months. My mom, dad, and I cried together. We were finally together.











Goodbye

The news came too soon. Everything I knew and loved was about to be ripped out from underneath me. My mom was ecstatic, she hated Fort Hood. My dad was excited to start something new; we had been in Killeen for six years. Then there was me. I smiled and pretended to be happy but I was crying inside. I didn’t want to move. Killeen was my childhood and I wasn’t ready to let go. I had met my two best friends here. We were so close. We needed each other, I needed them. They cried when I told them I had to move. I met them when I was five, how could I throw six years of friendship away? We promised not to forget each other, but how long can a person hold on?
Fifth grade was done along with that chapter of my life. We packed the boxes into the moving truck. The movers began their drive to San Antonio. My family and I, accompanied by our two dogs and cat, drove away from the house that held my childhood. I loved that house. I loved my light pink room and I loved the wooded backyard where I spent most weekends with my friends, the same friends I was leaving. I swallowed the knot in my throat and looked one last time at our house, my home.

Just When You Think…

Starting a new school is hard, knowing absolutely no one- harder. I hated making new friends, it’s something that always challenged me, but at this point I had no choice. I made friends surprisingly quick, and soon I asked if anyone had a parent in the military… no one. I was quieted with disappointment; this was going to be fourth grade again.
Luckily with my dad’s new job he wouldn’t be deployed. Sixth grade finished and my life felt good. My dad was home, he worked reasonable hours and never missed dinner, and we even spent time with each other on the weekends. But as some people say, “just when you think everything’s fine, something comes along and messes everything up.” That couldn’t be a more true statement.





We Didn’t Even Bother

My dad was promoted. Happiness filled the house. He deserved this promotion. He became the first sergeant to the Alpha Company, a company of about 600 soldiers. For the most part the company was great, but like in everything there are those problematic people who caused nothing but stress. Not only stress on my dad, but stress on our family. He started working longer hours. He would come home at six, dinner was still warm. Eventually it turned in to 7,8,9,10,11, and 12. We would leave a plate of food for him in the microwave but that stopped, we didn’t even bother making him dinner anymore. He often left the house at five thirty in the morning and worked on the weekends. On the rare occasion he was home, he talked to his soldiers over the phone. Even though he was with us I felt like he was deployed.





No Tears Left

Seventh grade- the year I attended my first military funeral. I knew this man, he was a second father. I had known him since I was five; he was the father of my two best friends. I walked to the tent and stood in the back with my mom. The six soldiers carried in the casket draped with the American flag. As they folded the flag I couldn’t breathe. Thoughts flooded my mind. What if this was my dad’s funeral? What if I had to sit in the front row and pretend to be strong? What if that was me receiving my dad’s folded flag? As a gasped for air the casket began to drop into the ground. I cried the whole way home, I cried until I had no tears left. My head throbbed and my body shook. The thought of losing my dad terrified me, it still does.





Staying

Eighth grade began and nothing had changed, I rarely saw my dad. He had worked with Alpha Company for two years now, meaning he would be moving to a new company soon.
“Happy New Years!” rang through my ears. My dad was going to be done at Alpha Company in a few months and he would have more time for family, more time for me. It was going to be a good year. I returned to school after the Christmas break with a refreshed smile and a happy personality. The new found happiness was soon killed. I sat on the couch at home occupied with homework. My mom sat on the other couch while my dad sat at the kitchen table checking emails. My dad nonchalantly asked my mom if I knew. “If I know what?” I questioned. My mom said that my dad had received his orders today. My heart stopped. “To where?” I asked with desperation in my voice. Never in my life would I have predicted what she said, “Germany” was all she stated, not looking at me. I felt my face turn hot and my eyes began to water. I looked to my dad, he was occupied answering emails. I couldn’t hold it in., I choked on my words, “I hate the Army!” As the words came out of my mouth, the tears fell out of my eyes. I walked down the hallway to my room. I collapsed on my bed and began to cry. No one came to comfort me. I knew orders were coming, I expected a new state, not a new country. I had met people that I loved, friends that I didn’t want to abandon.
Within the next week my dad did everything he could to change his orders but had no luck. My mom sat me down one night and said “your dads moving to Germany but we’re staying here.”











Done

Staying. How could she say that? We are a family that has been forcefully separated, why would she choose this? I cried. I didn’t understand why she was doing this to our family, I became furious with her. I got up and left. I couldn’t stand being around her at that point. She was the reason we weren’t going to remain a family. I ignored her for days and spent most afternoons in my room thinking. Questioning her decision, trying to find reasons behind her choice and lastly, what am I going to do without my dad? Although I never saw him, at least he was here, with his family. He’s going to me alone in Germany. Our family was being torn apart, not by my mom, but by the Army. I hadn’t told anyone at school. I knew I was acting different. How could I act happy when in a few months I would lose my dad, again. I decided to tell four of my closest friends. I saw the pity in their eyes. They weren’t military brats, how could I expect them to understand? They never would. Having military friends is something I’ve missed. I miss knowing people my age who understand what it’s like. They tried their hardest but they didn’t know how to deal with me. I became emotional, but didn’t cry. I was done crying.

I’m Sorry

He was scheduled to leave April seventh. He would be stationed in Germany for two years. My dad was going to miss half of my high school years. He was going to miss Thanksgiving, Christmas, and birthdays. He was going to miss me grow up. April seventh seemed to be in the distance considering it was only March, I was wrong. On March third I attended my dad’s farewell party. I opened the door to the party and stood in shook. At least 50 soldiers stood and greeted my family. These were soldiers that were my dad’s friends, I even considered a few of them as my uncles. We ate as a large group and then the speeches began. My dad was the last to make a speech, he started by thanking everyone for coming and then he choked on his words. He looked directly at me and apologized. He apologized for everything he had put me through. He apologized for neglecting me. And he apologized for having to leave again.




One More Time

I was in the ninth grade. He was deploying for the third time, this time to Afghanistan. This has been the hardest deployment. I’m fifteen years old. I watch the news everyday and am aware of what happens in the Middle East. I know the danger and threat he faces every day. I wake up with the thought that today could be the day I lose him. I don’t talk to my dad for weeks at a time and when I do, I don’t know what to say. As we tell each other good bye I can hear his voice crack, and it kills me. I hold my tears back because I want him to think that I’m okay, but the truth is as soon as I say “ I love you” and hand that phone to my mom, I go back to my room and cry.






We Love Each Other

Military life; they say it teaches respect and discipline. The only thing the military life has taught me is how to say goodbye. I wouldn’t wish this life on anyone because no one deserves this. No one deserves the pain military brats go through, what I go through. Although the Army has created problems within my family I wouldn’t changed it for the world. The experiences of jealousy, fear, and pain have shaped my character. I’ve become a stronger person due to the Army. I’ve been able to travel, I’ve meet people who I will remain friends with until old age, and strangely my family has become stronger. We love each other, and when we are together we appreciate it.