Tag: retirement

[Chapter One]

At the age of 17, I congratulated my boyfriend on his acceptance to the United States Naval Academy. “When do you leave?” I asked. And the clock began to tick, a figurative wristwatch attaching itself to me. 

Years later, our wedded bliss begins with the cadence of time…

How many months until you report to flight school? 

How many months before you get your aviator wings?

How long will we live here?

We constantly look at the calendar, the time, the projection of years.

When do you leave for deployment?

How long will you be gone?

When do you go on the next detachment?

When will your new orders come out?

But it doesn’t seem strange, this ever-present, incessant ticking, it’s just our life. In our military community, conversations often begin with “How long have you been stationed here? When will you move again?” Our lives model a revolving door, watching the hands of time go around and around as our spouses take turns leaving, deploying, “standing the watch”. And we spouses stand the watch, too, proudly waiting for them to come home.

As the years go by, the questions start to change…

How many more years does he owe?

Is this his last tour?

When can he retire?

And then I feel the lurch of the clock, the hiccup in the wheel of time. Thirty years have passed since that teenager asked the first question and the time begins to slow down. I still hear the ticking, but the scenes play in slow motion as our brains race to capture every moment and every event before the sand runs out.

Statements burst forth, paperwork starts to be processed and “How many days until retirement?” becomes the last marker of Navy time. Invitations fly through the mail, family and friends returning with them like boomerangs. One final time, my husband dons his flight gear and soars into the clouds, taxiing through a rainbow of water upon his return to earth. Champagne is poured and the ceremony planned. 

The calendar flips and the day of his retirement dawns. Speeches resound, flags are lovingly handled, a friend harnesses his deep voice and bellows throughout the hangar:

“For twenty-six years

This sailor has stood the watch

While some of us were in our bunks at night

This sailor stood the watch

While some of us were in school learning our trade

This shipmate stood the watch

Yes.. even before some of us were born into this world

This shipmate stood the watch

In those years when the storm clouds of war were seen brewing on the horizon of history

This shipmate stood the watch

Many times he would cast an eye ashore and see his family standing there

Needing his guidance and help

Needing that hand to hold during those hard times

But he still stood the watch

He stood the watch for twenty-six years

He stood the watch so that we, our families and our fellow countrymen could sleep soundly in safety,

Each and every night

Knowing that a sailor stood the watch

Today we are here to say
‘Shipmate… the watch stands relieved’

Relieved by those You have trained, Guided, and Led

Shipmate, you stand relieved.. we have the watch.”

I look at my husband on stage standing proudly in his uniform, my forehead straining against the emotion inside me. Where did the time go?? Memories flood my mind.

But then I am walking towards the stage, taking his arm, listening for the bells and “departing the ship” for the last time. The jets roar overhead as the end of the red carpet draws near, the final steps of our Navy journey. We stop at the finish line and cross over it together as his watch stands relieved. And so does mine.

Our family huddles in the corner, a core memory made. But then we pull away, the world shifts and my body registers a change. I feel my wristband loosen and hear my own watch clamoring to the floor, the time frozen in place. My brain searches for the rhythm that has always drummed in the background of my thoughts, but it’s no longer there. The ticking has stopped. 

And for the first time in my adult life…all I hear is a beautiful silence.

[Cue Chapter Two]

–Subscribe via email for future blog posts–

–Subscribe via email for future blog posts–