Sometimes

There are moments that happen in life where you can't for the life of you figure out why things happen the way that they do. You think and think but still you have no answer for life's unending questions.

As I sit in my living room tonite, checking facebook for signs of life, chatting with FB family and eating left over spaghetti, my mind drifts to a better time in my life. Before death came knocking on our front door and burst in without so much as an invitation.

We all lose folks we love if we live long enough. That's the circle of life. I know it. But when you lose folks that are so close to you that you don't see it coming, it's a hard pill to swallow. My pain started in 2005 when my baby boy was taken at such a young age. Now, undoubtedly, I have lost lots of loved ones prior to 2005, but they didn't require the energy that losing a child does. I managed to get through the endless days and nights with prayers and focusing on taking care of someone else besides me. That would be my husband. I dedicated myself to taking care of him and the pain of losing Derrick didn't hurt so much. Although I grieved, I didn't have the time or the energy to "truly grieve" like I probably should have. The distraction was welcomed with opened arms.

Fast forward to 7/22/2009. The last day here on earth for my dear. In the blink of an eye, it seems, he was gone. The man I had married and taken care of since his illness drifted away in front of my eyes. I knew it was the right thing for him. God makes no mistakes. So how come it hurt so much? How come I didn't want him to leave? How come I got angry a few days later and cried out to him, "You promised you'd never leave me and here I am all alone!" I heard God say, "But you're not alone my child, I am here with you!" "Yeah, but you're not my John.", I so bravely spewed. How ridiculous was that? I had zero distractions this time around. Me, the quiet house and the empty bed. It loomed large, especially at night.

Folks from every corner had advice and things they felt they should say. I heard them all.
"You're young, you'll find someone else.", "Pretty soon, you'll be back to normal.", "It takes time, you'll land on your feet sooner or later.", "Take care of you now, you've done all that you can for John." Take care of me? How does a natural born caretaker take care of themselves and not feel guilty at some point? How does someone who lived for someone else ever be "normal" again without that someone? I know that time heals all wounds and that there is no sorrow on earth that heaven cannot heal, but I miss him. I miss everything about him. His laughter, his smile, his quirky comebacks, his phone calls, his touch, the warmth of his body in the bed next to me, his complaining, his snoring, his questions, the way he used to call me "honey" and "dear". This time I have no one to distract me from the loneliness. It's just me. It's just me without him. I feel like half a person sometimes. I don't fit in. I'm not married, I'm not divorced, I'm not separated, I'm widowed. I even hate that word. Makes me think of spiders. Yuck! The phone calls from family are slowing down to a trickle now and I know that's the way things go. I can't rely on them forever. I've got to stand on my own 2 feet at some point. I know things will get better. I knew this was going to be difficult. But I never thought I would be in this predicament. In between the living and the dead. Trying to hang onto the love of a ghost. I look at the pictures and remember those moments like they happened yesterday. "He should still be here!" I always say. It's just not right. I haven't accepted it yet although I know it's real. Acceptance will come. That will hurt also. But I can't let it go until I accept it in my heart. Accepting in my heart means letting him go, but my heart still yearns for him.

I miss him; John, my everything.