Enemy ...Mine

I'm learning, as my healing journey slowly progresses, that I'm my own worst enemy sometimes. Just when it feels that I'm going to have a good day, I remember a particular moment in our lives and I fall apart all over again.

The moments don't have to be anything special, like our wedding day or anything. In fact most times, it's the small, seemingly insignificant moments that seem to scream the loudest in my memory banks. Anything from watching him shave before work to him waking me up for work when he got home in the mornings. Those times are etched permanently in my brain.

I remember when I first moved in with him in 1985 and he used to come home from work at 6am and sit on the side of the bed, smoking a cigarette, with his uniform shirt unbuttoned and his belt buckle undone, in his sock feet. I'd be in the bathroom taking a shower and getting dressed and when I opened the door he would start talking. Telling me about his night at work and how tired he was and how glad he was to "curl up" and get some sleep. I would walk into the bedroom and stand between his legs and give him a kiss. We'd fall onto the bed and I'd never want to leave. I'd tell him that I could lay there with him the rest of my life and never get up and he'd say, "We'd starve to death". We both would laugh and he'd coax me into getting up. He was afraid I'd be late and get written up. I was in the Navy back in those days and they always wanted you to be on time for some reason. He'd always say, "you'll never blame me for the court martial". I'd just shake my head. As I reluctantly would get off of him, he'd say, "I'll be here when you get home". Oh those words. I never knew how much they meant to me until now. I never knew what they meant to him when he said them either. It was his way of saying to me that he wasn't going anywhere and that he'd always be here at the end of the day. And he was.......for 25 years.

Those little, shared moments that were meant for only he & I are more precious than gold. I wouldn't trade them for any amount of money. I cling to them as if they are a lifeline thrown from a ship in the middle of the perfect storm. My only connection to my long, lost love. Those heart strings get stretched to the max every now and then but especially since I've put him to rest. I dredge up those memories and brush off the cobwebs and then I proceed to cry. That feeling in that moment is something that I will forever be able to recall. Memories transport us back to those moments so you can live them all over again. It's fascinating that the human mind can do that for us. The sights, sounds, smells and feelings are just as real the 2nd time around as they were the 1st. The only thing that's changed for me is that one of the main characters is missing.

When I rejoin the here and now, the let down is astronomical. It's like free falling from the highest peak and landing face first on the concrete. SMACK! Those memories tucked in the corners of my memory bank waiting for the next time I need them. They serve to help me move forward. Each one as good as the original. Each one a reminder of what I've lost. Therefore creating that feeling of loneliness. I create those myself each time I venture into the memory bank. I cause myself to feel sad. But I think that the memory and reliving it is well worth the price of a few moments of sadness. I tell myself, "hey, at least you had those times". Some folks are not as blessed. Some people go through their whole lives without what I had with John. That is the real tragedy.

I was blessed to have lived it and my husband was along for the ride. And wherever I went, there he was also. Now, he's here in a different way. I have to get used to that way. I feel him at the same time that I long to feel him. Here....but not here. That's where I'm at today.