GOODBYE PITTSBURGH

You never really know how tricky it is to say goodbye until you actually have to go through it. There's always that tendency to say, "Well, I'll see you later..." but when you're deploying to Iraq and you'll be gone for about a year, "later" sounds awfully close to a lie. I do shut off my emotions when I go through my goodbye's. I'm almost afraid that people will think I don't mean it, or that I don't care. As if it made no difference if I don't see them again for another year or not. The truth is that I cut myself off from my emotions because I know I won't be able to control myself otherwise. If I give it too much thought, then I'll get that pang in my nose, then it'll work both up to my eyes and down to my stomach... two directions at once. After that, there's no going back and the tears come next.

Heather looks at me and asks me how I can be so strong in saying goodbye to everyone. I have no answer to that because keeping a straight face takes no strength at all in my opinion. Strength is letting go and cry. Strength is being able to handle the tears when the steamroll your body from your stomach all the way up to your eyes. That's strength. Being able to take the hits instead of ducking behind a veil of stability.

Yesterday, Heather and I took James and Nicole out to eat at Il Pizzaiolo to celebrate my birthday and new promotion. James and Nicole have been working long nights in remodeling their new house before their move in. I saw James as hard-working as ever, dedicated to his wife and to the Lord with the same passion I had seen in him before I left. To me the idea hit me strange in a sense because this was my four-day pass away from the Army before deploying for good. For me this was a moment to relax and put work and duty on hold, and yet I was coming right back to people whose lives don't take breaks. In those moments I felt a little ashamed to present myself before friends and family-- here they were hard-working and engaged with life as ever and I was on vacation. Their life was my vacation. It's then that I felt that the every-day working American makes the same sacrifices Soldiers make overseas. In many ways, Soldiers are provided for, even when fighting in war, while the American people have to continue dealing with the same uncertainties of everyday life. Not that it's not tough being a Soldier, but every working American has challenges to face. Whether those challenges are life-threatening or life-testing, they are still challenges. Life doesn't go on hold just because of a four-day pass.

After our pizza we stopped by a coffee shop up the street. I took maybe three or four sips of my cappuccino, and just jokingly I asked Nicole, "So... what did you guys get me for my birthday?"

Then Nicole and Heather looked at each other, and Nicole said, "Actually, we're glad you asked because we have a surprise for you."

"What is it?"

"We're not going to tell you."

And Heather said, "And we're going to blindfold you so you don't know where we're going."

"You guys are messing with me, right? You're not serious."

"No really," Heather said. "We're going to put this over your eyes and take you somewhere." She pulled out a black headband and I sat back on the couch and smiled in disbelief.

"Where are you guys taking me? James you knew about this?"

James just sat quietly, kinda nodding along, not giving away anything.

"This is silly," I said. "You guys aren't serious."

So then by this point my mind is rambling in trying to figure out what the surprise present is. Heather tells me it's big enough that we'll have to put down the car seats.

"How am I supposed to take this to Iraq if it's so big?"

"You'll see."

Then somehow I got to thinking they were going to take me to the Steelers store 'cuz I'm a total addict, and I'm picturing everything that this present might be.

So finally Heather convinces me to wear the headband and they walk me out of the coffeeshop toward the car. By now I feel completely vulnerable, and at every step I fear I'll trip over a sidewalk or sudden steps. I crawl my way into the car and Heather takes left and right turns and I try to guess what we're stuffing into the back seat. "Is it a couch?" "Is it a poster?" "Is it a flat-screen tv?"

Then we park the car and Heather comes around opens the door and grabs me by the hand. By now I feel like a total old man unable to take two steps without using a cane or holding onto someone. Heather opens the door to the entrance, and I feel a rush of AC air blowing over me, and I hear just the tiny chatter of children. We're in a toy store, I think.

"Hey can I feel the present and try to guess what it is before you take off my blindfold?" I ask, but before I finish the sentence Heather pulls off the band and...

"SURPRISE!"

The room is filled with people. We're inside Azzeria, the pizza restaurant I used to work in, and from left to right is an entire panorama of faces and friends and family. I just stand there, mouth open in half-gasp. I froze and for ten or fifteen seconds I'm trying to process what's going on. There's no way all these people are here for me, I think. I loose all grip on intelligent thought and try to reach for something to say but all that comes out is, "Uhhhh..."

Before I can even take another breath and extend my incredibly witty remark, my mom walks forward with eyes half-teary and hugs me. I feel like she just saved me from my own stupidity, so I hug her tightly in thanks and relief.

We all celebrate and spend the evening together and the whole time I wonder, "How can all these people be here for me. How can it be that all these people love me so much? What have I done to deserve their support?"