Another one bites the dust.

Another friend just received PCS orders that her family didn’t expect. So, off to Alaska they will go this June. This announcement comes after a slew of other Facebook posts from people across our community here who are packing up and heading out.

And we are still here.

Though I’m not stressing over the logistics of a PCS for my family, the impending departures have my stomach in knots. I am losing friends. I am losing community partners who I work with in volunteer organizations. My kids are losing friends. Heck, I’m losing people who I really don’t care for.

But, they are all part of our community. They are our current normal, and that is all about to change.

As I watch each of them pull away and begin the process of packing, rushing about and moving on, I fear. 

What if the families who move in do not have kids the same age as mine? What if my kids can’t make new friends?

What if no one volunteers and the organizations that these wonderful people have strived to build crumble?

What if the awful, miserable neighbor across the street is replaced by someone even worse?

What if none of the new people want to be my friend?

The military spends a lot of time addressing the difficulties that constant relocation means for children. What we don’t speak openly about is how hard it is for grownups too.

And, it is hard.

It’s hard to leave your friends behind, no matter if you’re nine or 39.

It’s scary to start over in a new neighborhood and march straight into the unknown.

It’s lonely when you are the one left behind.

And right now, my family is one of the last standing as most of the families we arrived with three years ago prep to leave the island.

So to all my wonderful friends heading to new adventures, I wish you the best. To those arriving, welcome. Our community needs you. We need you. Welcome.