“Sacrifice.” I thought I knew what that word entailed. I was always surrounded by sacrifice during my time in the United States Navy. On April 12, 2024, I gained a far deeper understanding of what it means.
On this date, the love of my life, my fiancé Ashlyn Weber, departed for Naval Station Newport, Rhode Island, to begin her naval career. It had been her goal before we met, and I knew of it. It was a specter looming beneath every joyous moment we had together. I thought I really knew the challenge that this separation would bring, but nothing can prepare you.
I first thought I understood what sacrifice meant during my time in bootcamp in December of 2016. I missed Christmas with my family for the first time. I was deprived of free time, the Internet, a good book, and even the ability to call and talk to my folks. But I was more than occupied.
Between drilling, training, marching, and waiting in line, my time was always filled. I had little time to dwell on the separation from my family. It was one of the proudest moments of life to be recognized by my Recruit Drill Instructors as a Sailor and not a recruit. When they donned my head with a Navy ballcap, replacing the emblazoned “Recruit” with a golden “Navy,” my eyes welled with tears. It was the most challenging time of my life, or so I thought.
I thought I understood sacrifice when I left for my first duty station, Armed Forces Network Diego Garcia. The remote destination was a pivotal learning experience for my younger self. I thought I had found love, but it was not to be. The sharp edge of the island’s loneliness was thankfully tempered by the friends I made. Without Internet, I replaced my gaming habits with reading and hanging out with friends. There was sacrifice on Diego, but it was not I who was suffering.
I thought I knew sacrifice when I was stationed in Italy. The transition was difficult, but it was easier than Diego. Instead of a tropical island, I was now in a first-world city with the commodities of the 21st century. But, the storm cloud of sadness, with its lightning bolts of despair and freezing rain of numbness, slowly enveloped me. I felt so alone.
I thought I knew what sacrifice meant when my brother attempted suicide in early 2020. The lockdowns had just occurred. I couldn’t leave Naples, Italy. I was stuck. I was alone. I was an ocean away from my brother in his darkest time. Trying to cope was the most difficult thing I had ever experienced. I fell deeply into self-destruction. I drank very heavily. I sat at home and cried.
I truly thought I knew what sacrifice meant, and I did, to be fair to myself. I knew what it meant to be the one leaving, to be the one who was gone. But that is only half of the sacrifice required of military service. It is more than a service member’s separation and risk to protect their country. There is another side of sacrifice that I was completely unaware of; the sacrifice of those who stay and watch the ones they love leave.
I proposed to my fiancé on March 16, 2024 at English Landing Park. It was the happiest moment of my life. Our paths crossed at the right time for our love to blossom. It was upon learning she was trying to enter Officer Candidate School that I got my butt kicked in gear and I asked her out. I thought I knew how difficult it is to see those you love to leave. I was wrong.
When we were preparing for her to leave, I was able to see the rays of sunshine she provided me with through that thunderhead of sorrow which ominously loomed over the horizon. I was the only one not crying when she said goodbye to her family. They had never experienced a loved one leave. I had. At least, I had experienced what Ashlyn was feeling. Never had I been in the shoes of a loving family member watching their future spouse leave for uncertain waters. I was ill prepared as it turned out.
I did not fully understand the reality of her absence until I was in the car. When I looked over and saw an empty passenger seat, I cried. It was a seat she so lovingly and beautifully occupied, like the impossibly large hole in my heart she filled. And it felt like I was alone again. I realized the pain and fear so many before us have felt. I know what sacrifice means now.
I understood, even if I never faced it, what the sacrifice my service would entail in the direst of circumstances. I hope to face that challenge with dignity and competency if it is required of me. But that is so much easier than seeing those you love have to face that same sacrifice.
It is far easier to leave those you love than for those you love to leave. It is a lesson I will never forget.
Like an uncertain course a ship must take to discover a new land, we embarked upon our journey knowing that dangerous shoals and tides would cause us heartache and pain. And it is not a destination that is important for a journey such as this. It is the journey. The next step you take is the most important. Like a fire forever burning, our love will light the way through the darkness of an uncertain future. It will bring heat and passion to the cold, numbing winds of adversity we shall face. Soon enough, we will face it together again.
