Thoughts

The house was quiet today before the girls arrived home shortly after noon. I stayed in bed until 11am, and it felt good. No one needed me, and that felt as sad and devastating as it did relaxing. I dozed off and on most of the morning, in and out of thoughts of my life with Brian. We have a large window in our bedroom, and I had the blinds open. Because our house is split level, when I lay in bed, the only thing I could really see out the window was the sky. It made me feel close to Brian.

I decided to take the girls to St. Joe today. Amberlea tested positive for the flu on Wed., and finally is starting to bounce back. It is difficult to be out and about, both for me and the girls, so it was nice to go out of town. I was in our bathroom doing my makeup and hair real fast before the girls got home. And I heard it. It sounded like a mumbled "Sweetie" coming from the other room. I quickly dropped the brush on the counter and took about 4 steps towards our bedroom when I realized it wasn't Brian calling my name, as he had so many times. I wasn't scared. I don't really even think there was a sound. My head has just been full of his voice, him talking to me, the music from the funeral, the images of good times and sad times. I stepped into our bedroom and looked around, the room full of plants and flowers from his funeral. Complete silence. It was an all too real reminder that he is gone from this life, and I am alone. No amount of love and support can fill that gap. I do feel lifted by so many, lifted that I might move forward and stand on my own two feet, that I might still get out of bed, even if it is almost noon. But the gash through my heart is there, and it feels as if my heart beats at a different rhythm. My mind wanders often to each moment of the past few months, the routine that encompassed our lives. I even find it difficult to be in our living room and see the bed missing and things put back into their normal places. During our marriage, Brian and I were not apart more than 3 days, and that was only once when I was gone to a conference. I find now that I miss his company, his laughter, his presence, and I am suddenly starting to feel the days fly by. Each day in the past 6 months, especially the past 3 months, has both flown by and drug on. Now the days seem to be piling on top of each other, building up to a point of realizing that Brian is not away at a conference, he's not gone on vacation, he's not coming back.

It is all too real. It feels good to cry. The tears seem to have been stuck inside of me, yet welled up to the point that I could hardly breathe. The quiet time was good for me. I can only hope the gash will begin to heal someday.