I debated on how to count the time – go by each Saturday or go by the day, the 13th? I’ve debated and even asked friends.
I’ve decided to count by Saturdays – each Saturday marking one week – one long, sad, alone week.
Today is the 10th – I’ve been a widow for four weeks – one month.
Oh my heart aches – I’m trying not to cry as I write this – I’m not at home as I write or I would be crying.
The holidays are over. The meals are trickling to a stop.
But the reminders are there – his toothbrush still sits in the holder in the bathroom. His shirts still hang in our closet. His car is in the garage. The reminders.
I still can’t see myself as a widow – a widow has gray hair, wears big, clunky shoes, has grandchildren and maybe even great grandchildren. I’m 36 – I’m young, I have maybe two strands of gray – I am surrounded by our children, not grandchildren.
My hand is empty. My lips haven’t been kissed in 4 weeks. I haven’t felt his touch in 4 weeks, the gentle “groping” that at one time annoyed me to no end.
I’m still waiting…..waiting for him to come through the door, to call me, to drive me nuts with another zombie movie, to tell me he loves me, to do something.
Instead – I’m left with an empty bed, an empty hand, a hole where one shouldn’t be. Along with my husband’s death comes the death of our dreams –
Dreams of more children, vacation dreams, seeing our children graduate, get married and serve the Lord.
Dreams of owning our own DD transportation business, dreams of owning a camper and traveling, dreams to see Greece, Ireland and Germany.
I recently told a couple friends, that if only I hadn’t love him or loved him so much then the loss wouldn’t feel so bad, the hurt would be easier to cure……..
If I hadn’t loved so deeply that I could get back to normal and ignore the space in our family – my night driver, my errand runner, my lover……..
I often wonder did he know how much I loved him? I could get mad at something small…..did he know? I pray he knew – I wasn’t the romantic one – oh how I wish I had been more romantic.
Some say things can’t change in the blink of an eye – well my life did – in a matter of hours my whole life changed – I lost my husband, my friend, the dad of my children. The provider, the defender, my other half.
I can still feel the cold as I touched his hand as I tried to wake him, thinking he was playing some horrible, terrible joke on me. The stiffness where there once used to be soft, tender skin. Still I wait thinking think he isn’t really gone, then I get a card in the mail, a call on the phone, or a look from one of my child saying “I miss dad”. He’s gone.
One long month has passed and I wonder how I’ll make it to month 2, month 3. Yes, I know the Lord is there – but I must admit that doesn’t warm my bed at night, that doesn’t kiss my lips or give me a hug when I need it. Please, don’t think me blasphemous that is not my intent – I’d so much rather have my husband here and while I know I can seek comfort in the Lord it’s not the same as having your spouse next you.
I’m working through much – some days are okay other days are so, so hard. I try to do something each day – like now we’re getting back into the children’s activities and we’ve gone to a couple stores. The anxiety when I go to a store is so high I almost can’t stand it. I want to call Don and ask him if so and so is a good deal. I NEED to talk to him but alas he isn’t here. I know one day I’ll see him again but until then my heart hurts. My brain is muddled and I’m alone.
(c) 2015, Sarah Bailey/Growing for Christ, All Rights Reserved, Unauthorized Duplication is a Violation of Applicable Laws