Wednesday evening, I steeled myself and dialed my brother’s phone number. For the third time in two years, I would be bidding him farewell before he embarked on a trip to fulfill the duty he considers his calling: a tour in Iraq with the Marines of the 3/4.

He’s already done one full tour; he was in Fallujah for the better part of 2005. And he went back for a few weeks this summer for an advance recon trip. Now, he’s off until next Spring. I can’t tell you where he’s going. Not that it matters. There’s really no good place to go in Iraq.

The first two times I said goodbye to Joe, I was such a basket case that I barely got through the phone call. He ended up consoling me each time. When GTB and I went to visit him in California earlier this summer, we almost missed our flight home because I couldn’t stop crying and GTB couldn’t stop hugging me. This goodbye, I vowed, I’d hold it together, at least for the duration of the phone call. I did pretty well. My voice cracked slightly when I said, “Keep your head down.” But I don’t think Joe noticed.

Once I was off the phone though, and GTB saw me walk back into the living room, he came over to see how I was. I couldn’t hold it in. He sat with me and rubbed my back while I snotted all over his shirt and wouldn’t let me go until I told him I was OK.

It’s a blessing and a curse, making yourself this vulnerable to a person. Had GTB not been there, I would have gotten through the night without too many tears. But he brings out this weepy, sappy, little kid in me. That’s the curse.

The blessing though is that later in the night, when I was still pretty dreary, he knew how to cheer me up. He broke out his senior year high school yearbook. (Can I mention here how awful 1991 was in terms of fashion?)

I was still sad about Joe leaving, of course. You never really get over that sense of fear and distance and how much work it takes not to let yourself even think about what might happen over there. But, as my sister-in-law (his wife) says, every day he’s there, that’s a day closer he is to coming home.

So if I seem a little blue in the coming months, it’s because I’m holding my breath until next April when Joe comes home.

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