Day #35

Today was a day for recollection and reflection. And none of it on purpose.

A gal at work was talking about sewing patches on her daughter's junior lifeguard suit in preparation for tomorrow. Suprisingly that is all. it. takes. To get my mental wheels turning and cranking those old memories right up to the surface.

Two days before James left for Okinawa he was promoted. Awesome sauce. The night before shipping out I was trying to convince him to sleep. And I was sewing (trying) to sew the new chevrons on his 3 uniforms.

He could not sleep. He was hallucinating a little. I was only a little alarmed. I knew he was scared and worried. I knew he was distraught that that they would ship to Okinawa, and then be told they were deploying from there -no time to say goodbye to family and friends. Maybe I should have tuned in more to those hallucinations. They weren't major or frightening, only a little off.

He refused to leave my side. He insisted on trying to rest on the couch while I sewed on his chevrons. Normally, on base there is a seamstress who does this. But this was last minute; he was leaving at 4am. I likely wouldn't get to sleep before he left. I'd be slewing the whole time.

Well..I'm not a sew-er. I can re-hem an inch of the pant leg if it gets a snag. I can re attach a button. How difficult could it be to sew these chevron patches on (one on each sleeve, of each of the 3 uniforms.) HARD!!! Those little bastard child chevrons ate my fingers up. The patches were SO thick. I don't own a thimble. "Buck up, self. Your husband is a Marine. Ready to sacrifice all, and you can't sew on some measly patches!" I'd push the needle in to the next spot and see the needle disappear. I'd turn it over to grab it from the other side and thread it through BUT it wasn't there. What the heck!?!?

Needle lost? No! The needle was in my finger. Yes IN my finger. How is this possible? Because I'd been sewing SO long, first my fingers hurt, but now they were numb! These little invasive needles over and over again embedded themselves in my chubby, numb fingers. Since I couldn't feel anymore, not being able to feel the needle was a problem. And, whoomp whoomp, my fingers started to bleed. I bled ALL over his chevrons and uniform sleeves.

No one would notice, right? I mean, for a Marine, it would be more manly (or somethimg) to have BLOOD on your uniform, right?

No. James was HORRIFIED. But what else could be done? He said "NOT your wife's blood!"

Today, as I recalled that night, when I got to the: NOT YOUR WIFE part, I was also instantly reminded that James also refused and was appalled when someone called a white ribbed tank top, a wife-beater. No. No no no. He renamed them WIFE LOVER shirts. Not once after that did he call it by anything else.

There was no lack of love on his part.

I think that's part of the pain. No lack of love. ♡