The other woman

Among the many hats I wore while in D.C., one was the President of the Navy Civil Engineer Corps Officers' Spouses Club. Not much was required of me, except for that dreaded once a month President's letter that often left me at a loss for words. From time to time, in one of my more inspired moments, I articulated something worth sharing....and so here is one of my favs.

The Other Woman...

Sometimes I think there must be a parallel universe, one with another military wife rushing about getting the day done, wondering about her next duty station and worrying about the kids fitting in. She weaves back and forth seamlessly between her civilian friends, her children’s school and her husband’s military obligations. Then in one irrevocable instant our universes collide as the man of my dreams becomes the one of her nightmare.

You see, my dear military engineer husband is also a CACO— Casualty Assistance Calls Officer. In my world, he’s the man who along with the Chaplain, knocks on your door and changes your life forever. I’ve imagined the face of this officer many times in the past, imagined every detail of the car he would drive, what words he would choose, and how I would respond. I never imagined he would sit across the dinner table from me every night. But he does, and I am ever grateful, because I know that when the phone call comes in, the knock isn’t at my door. When the call comes in, my husband quietly leaves our family to take care of hers. And I am grateful.

I have come to learn through this experience that it is the Chaplain who can be the comforting one and the CACO must be procedural, professional and at all times objective. But in that professionalism can he also be tender with her? Can he be gentle in his guidance through the maze of paperwork and complicated procedures that she must understand through her grief? Across the table, I see my husband smiling as he suffers through my cooking, and know that he can.

Three times the call has come in, three times my universe merged with another’s as my husband drove away. I always imagine the worst. I’m hit with the pang of guilt that is married to the thought of ‘thank God it’s not me’.

The phone rings.

This time, I’m reminded of just how important the CACO duty is and why amid my dread and dreary delusions, it is arguably one of the most important and honored of military duties. This is where we take care of our own. No matter how many runways get built in Iraq, no matter how many bridges are reinforced in Afghanistan, when one of our sailors falls, or even stumbles and trips, the CACO is there for the family. My CACO is there. It is his sincere dedication to her family that makes it easy for me to let him go.

My wish is that the only CACO you ever know is the one you break bread with. We nestle into the cocoon of our lives when our spouses are home. Even though we are ‘military’, the war is ‘out there’ and only when our spouse is ‘over there’ do we take stock of what is the danger in our midst. But the truth is that our ability to be comfortable in the unknown should not remove us from what is the reality for so many of us, ‘us’ being our larger military family as a whole; the reality that our spouses have chosen a career that is inherently risky.

Wars end, my husband’s duty to protect does not. I know that at any moment, the very DNA of our lives may twist; ‘she’ and I will connect by a tiny strand. I know that at any moment, it could be the face across from her table that knocks on my door. But not tonight. Tonight it’s late and he collapses on the bed, asleep in minutes. As I watch him breathe, I pray for her, and thank God that he is still here. He is still here. And I am grateful.