By Laura Schofield
One of my comfort movies is “Shall We Dance” with Richard Gere and Jennifer Lopez. Besides the amazing soundtrack and fairly mellow plot, one of my favorite cinematic lines ever is said by Susan Sarandon’s character: “We need a witness to our lives…in a marriage, you’re promising to care about everything – the good things, the bad things, the terrible things, the mundane things, all of it, all the time, every day. You’re saying, ‘Your life will not go unnoticed because I will notice it. Your life will not go un-witnessed because I will be your witness.’” It’s a super poignant, touching scene that reflects what the relationship between spouses can be, and the intimate human need to be seen.
But where does that leave military spouses? The men and women whose spouses are so often gone answering their nation’s call? That person who promised to be the primary witness to our lives misses so much. And the reality of military life means that the most common secondary witnesses are also not around: our parents, siblings, grandparents, childhood teachers, lifelong friends. These other people that know us better than anyone else can usually be found hundreds (if not thousands) of miles away.
That disruption to the natural desire to be seen by those closest to us is why I believe the most important thing you can say to a military spouse is “I see you.”
And so, my friend, if no one has told you recently, I see you.
I see you coordinating new doctors, dentists, and orthodontists every move.
I see you doing dinner and bedtime by yourself night after night.
I see you tending every fever, tummy ache, and nightmare while you’re solo parenting. Again.
I see you being the tooth fairy, Easter bunny, Santa Claus, and birthday-party coordinator.
I see you keeping family updated on your life while also tempering down the military side of things.
I see you asking your new neighbors to be your kids’ emergency contact because you don’t know anyone else.
I see you opening your heart to friendship time after time, knowing one of you will move sooner rather than later.
I see you smiling at homecomings, even though reintegration is no small feat.
I see your polite smile when you receive advice that will never work with our lifestyle.
I see you cook meals, open your home, and share what you have with our small community.
I see you promise to thank your spouse for their service while you register the car, set up the new internet, and enroll your kids in school in a new state.
I see you sending the kids in to get a snack while you stay in the car an extra ten minutes to cry where no one can hear you.
I see you, friend and fellow military spouse. And what you do matters.
