the last mile is the longest

Now that we have a date set to move to New Jersey, my mind is reeling with things to get done. Yet I wish I was leaving tomorrow. I want to throw everyone in the car and just drive, just get there. I want to be done with waiting. It would be pointless though because I am not waiting to get back to NJ, or waiting to settle into my new home or even waiting to see my extended family whom I miss so much. I want to be driving to Bryan, my husband, the man I married, who I pledged my life to for better or for worse, for all of it, for as long as we both have breath.
"For this reason a man shall leave his father and mother and cleave to his wife and the two shall become one flesh."
One person can't be in two places at once unless he is is severed from his other part. With this process death would ensue. For the past 7 months some part of me has been dead. Some part of my heart has been so hard in order to bear the separation. Otherwise it would have been too heavy with the weight of all that missing to carry on.
But now the ice is melting away. My protection is weak and I have to muster up my happy face for today. Why now when it is so close to being over does the heaviness of all those days press like an iron fist around my heart?
Is it the realization of all that water under the bridge; all those moments lived apart, only partly alive?
Could I have lived those months more fully, if I had not hidden my soul like a turtle in its shell? Or would every moment have been sheer frustration, full of loneliness.
Pain is a refining fire that molds our hearts into the image of Christ. Did I, in my desire to protect my heart and to "just get through this," stunt my own growth?
I don't know. I have these last days to get though still. Days of anticipation and worry. What if he doesn't leave early enough, and I arrive there before him and am still stuck, still waiting.
I want to be driving to my husband, nothing else. But there may be more lessons ahead that I wish I did not have to learn.