I should be asleep…

It may be late at night, and I’m tired from a long day of entertaining my son, but yet, I write.  I don’t know what I’m going to say before I start typing, I’m just hoping to find some relief from putting the words down on the screen.  I really should be getting ready for bed.  Tomorrow morning will arrive all too soon, and then I wake to face yet another day with my broken heart.

How long does it take to fully comprehend your husband is no longer alive?  How much longer before I stop thinking he’s still coming home?  Perhaps I’m not ready to believe it yet.  It’s easier to let myself imagine a happy little life with my baby boy and his daddy.  When I’m at home, I think Mike is just at work.  When I’m at his place of work, I think he’s still out on the water.  When I’m laying in bed in the middle of the night, I think he’s just out of town.  When I wake in the morning, I’m sure that he just got up early to go swimming.  But then I start to focus and really wake up, and I have to face it again.

My favorite time is when I am fortunate enough to wake up on my own (rare these last seven months), without Eli calling me out of sleep.  Because when I am able to get up on my own, I go into that state in between sleep and being fully awake.  You know, when everything is still blurry, you feel sort of like you’re floating on a fluffy cloud, you may still be dreaming, but just beginning to come out of it.  I love that state.  I yearn for it.  I always wish it could last longer because that is when Mike is still here, laying beside me smiling, and my whole world hasn’t just been turned upside down.  I can still believe all is ok.  I can connect with Mike on some level of consciousness, whatever that may be.

It’s so hard to comprehend that he’s really actually gone.  How is that possible?  It’s so final.  I can’t change it, I can’t fix this problem.  Death and dying is not something many people think about until you’re faced with it head on like this.  The full magnitude of what it means to struggle through this daily is only understood by someone who has gone through it as well.  Forever my life is changed.  Yes, life is change and we all have to deal with it.  But this is the sort of life change no one should ever have to go through.  Once you become a widow, grief and sorrow surround you, emptiness takes over, and loneliness becomes your best friend.

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One Comment

  1. Julie
    Posted September 23, 2008 at 3:55 pm | Permalink

    Kimmy,
    I wish my arms could reach you from Ohio. I miss you and Eli so much. I just want to hug you both and wipe your tears away.
    Love you, Julie

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