Waking Up & Seeing Things. Or Not.

Dear John,

 

It's been a slow, lazy day. And a cold, damp, gray one. It's been in the low 30s, alternating between rain and snow. The fibro has been expressing it's displeasure with the weather, so I've taken it easy today. It's an investment toward being able to go to church in the morning.

 

I found this today. Do you know that I still wake up every night and look for you? Every time I wake up at night, I look at your side of the bed. If I've been sleeping lightly, I remember as I do it that you won't be there. If I was in a heavier sleep, I wonder where you are.  Sometimes I sit up and look to see if there's a light on somewhere in the house. A couple of times I've been sleeping so hard that I saw the dog and thought it was you, got up and went to the bathroom, and realized that it was Jethro when I came back to bed. Then I remembered. It hurts every time I remember that you're not coming back.

 

t's been almost twenty months and I still look for you. Like other things, I wonder how long I'll do this. Jethro must wonder why I reach over and touch him when I wake up. And his fur always startles me.

 

I miss you. You may have suspected that. You were there on the other side of the bed for almost 34 years. So I suppose it's okay that it's taking me a while to realize that you're gone. I'll never like it, but I do hope someday I really know it and don't have to keep getting surprised in the middle of the night.

 

Missing you more than I can say,

Joan.