Waiting to talk to Christella today was almost like waiting for Christmas morning as a little child; there was the excitement and the butterflies in the stomach, and yet it was somewhat a little different.
Looming in the air was a twinge of sadness, having reinforced that our relationship as father and daughter is confined to face to face 10 minute conversations twice a month and letters that we write to her (but won’t expect any back in return).
When we got done, I was emotionally drained. I felt like I had been crying for hours… pathetic I know – but that was the feeling. I had a headache, signs of high blood pressure, sick to my stomach and just very, very sad.
I’m so glad we get to talk to her every two weeks, but boy, oh boy, does it really hurt to see her and still know that it’s going to be a long time before she comes home.
It’s going to be a very long year…
