3 More Sleeps

      For most of my husband's career, he has had to travel for his work.  Sometimes he would be gone for a couple days, sometimes about a week.  While it's not the most favorite part of his job, it's what we do and we're used to it.  When my kids were much younger, they would always look forward to when their Daddy would be coming home.  If I told them he would be coming home on Wednesday, or Friday, they never really could grasp how long that would be.  So, I got in the habit of counting the number of "sleeps" until the day Dad came home.  We would say "3 more sleeps til Daddy comes home!" It made it much easier for my little ones to keep track of time.  It's actually become the phrase we use when we are looking forward to an event.  "5 more sleeps until Christmas!" "10 more sleeps until my birthday!"  It's always fun to do the count down.
     The latest event that we started counting sleeps for was for my son Dillon leaving for 2 years to serve an LDS Mission in London. With about a week left we started saying "6 more sleeps til Dillon leaves!" "4 more sleeps til England!"  We looked forward with nervous anticipation.  There is a lot to think about during that last week.  We had shots to get, last minute errands to run and packing to do.  We tried to keep busy and not really think about his impending departure.  It was much easier to take things one day at a time, or even 1 hour at a time.  That way we could avoid the very real truth that Dillon was leaving for 2 years and we wouldn't see his face or even talk to him more than twice a year.
     As hard as this was, this was a very joyful time for us.  We could not have been more excited about this adventure that Dillon was about to embark on.  We are so proud of his choice to put his life aside and devote the next two years to serving others and the Lord.  As difficult as we imagined it would be, we knew it was the best thing for him and us.  Dillon was more than ready and anxious to get started with the next chapter of his life.  With one more sleep left, we spent the night laughing and talking and praying together, hoping to savor every last moment.  It was a really special night full of laughter and love.
     With no sleeps left, the day had arrived.  We packed up our boy and drove to the airport.  After many tearful hugs and last goodbyes, we watched as our oldest son passed through the the airport check points and up the escalator to begin his new adventure.  No matter how many times you imagine that moment, you can never understand the emotion that comes with sending your son on this journey.  It's very much like having the wind knocked out of you, but you can't really seem to get it back.  We were all feeling this loss as we walked slowly out of the airport to make the ride home.
     As I walked down that long hallway, I felt the emotion come over me like a wave.  At first, I allowed it to wash over me, but I realized that this could go 2 ways.  I could be engulfed by this wave of grief, and if that happened, I would be a sobbing lump on the floor for the next week.  Or I could suck it up, and pull myself together and move forward.  I chose the latter.  I tried to keep busy and focus on the good things.  Keeping busy helps--alot.  Now that it's been a week, I continue to look for ways to keep busy, but there's still a part of me that's keenly aware of Dillon's absence.
     So for the next two years, a big chunk of my heart will be residing in London.  It will be molded and shaped just like my son will as he grows into the man he is to become.  I just keep moving forward and counting sleeps.  Only 723 to go.