A Letter On Love In The Time Of Duty
My Dearest Friend,
Love, in this life, is rarely cinematic. It is more often measured in the ordinary markers of our days: calendars filled months ahead in pencil, time zones memorized without effort, uniforms laid out at night so the morning can begin quietly. It is the kind of love that knows the phone will ring, and that it will be answered, because that is what duty does.
I did not come to this understanding suddenly. I grew up with it. I learned early that sometimes the people we love leave because the work requires it, and that love does not dissolve in their absence. It stretches. It adapts. It waits. Over time, that understanding followed me into adulthood and into marriage, where duty is not an occasional interruption, but a steady presence woven into the shape of our life.
Loving Beloved in the Presence of Duty
Beloved has always answered the call. I knew that about him when I chose him, and I know it now. Loving him means loving a man whose sense of responsibility does not turn off when the day is supposed to end. It means understanding that sometimes duty will come before dinner plans, family gatherings, or quiet evenings that were meant to be ours.
There are days when he comes home carrying more than he should have to. Days when duty has taken the best of his energy and left us with what remains. Loving him in those moments is not about pretending that it is easy. It is about choosing grace instead of resentment, patience instead of keeping score. It is remembering that the same sense of duty that pulls him away is also the thing that grounds him, shapes him, and makes him who he is.
This is love as a long-form verb. It is not proven once and then secured forever. It is practiced in restraint, in understanding, and in the quiet decision not to turn frustration into distance.
The Shape Absence Takes Over Time
Absence changes as the years pass. Early on, it can feel sharp and unsettling, something to brace against. But with time, it becomes familiar. It teaches trust, not only in the person who leaves, but in the life you are capable of sustaining while they are gone.
We have learned that absence does not require us to disappear. We remain whole people. Our children, Bun and Bean, continue their days, their routines, their small joys and big feelings. Life keeps moving, and love holds its place within it. Absence reminds us that we choose each other not out of necessity, but out of intention.
This is not a love born of exceptional resilience or unique temperament. It is learned. It is practiced. Military families have been loving this way for generations, through letters written across oceans, long stretches of silence, and returns that were never guaranteed. We are not inventing this kind of love. We are carrying it forward.
The Lesson
Love in the time of duty asks for honesty. It asks us to acknowledge the cost without letting bitterness take root. Choosing love means accepting the conditions under which it sometimes must operate, not as surrender, but as consent.
I chose Beloved knowing duty would always matter to him. To resent that now would be to unravel the very choice that made our life together possible. Love endures not because it is effortless, but because it is continually chosen, especially when it would be easier to withdraw.
To the Spouse Loving in the Time of Duty
You are not failing because this is hard. You are not lesser because you notice the cost. You are part of a long line of families who have loved steadily through absence, transition, and return.
This love may be quiet, but it is sound. It is built to last. And when duty finally loosens its grip, love is still here: not diminished, not frayed, but present, chosen, and intact.
