I Miss My Husband

... of course, every day. But some days, it's more poignant. poign·ant [poin-yuhnt, poi-nuhnt] adj. 1. keenly distressing to the feelings; 2. keen or strong in mental appeal; 3. affecting or moving the emotions.

 Today, it was somewhat distressing, strong in mental appeal -- and affecting of my emotions ...  how I missed my husband.

I'm experiencing one of those ebbs in the grieving process ... but not such a terribly sad one -- just an impacting one. Okay, it's a little sad. It hit me as I brewed coffee yesterday morning. I can't quite explain it. But anyone who's lost their husband -- or any loved one really close to them -- understands. The simplest day to day stuff can throw you down -- throw you back -- drudge-up associations, memories, whatever and leave you standing in your footsteps completely overtaken by emotion.

It's strange because, historically, I didn't really brew the coffee. David brewed the coffee. Actually, I would have brewed the coffee, but I wasn't quick enough! He brewed and brewed and brewed -- numerous pots in a day. I scarcely got a chance to step-in to wash the coffee pot, wipe up the counter, or anything -- especially in the last few years of his life, marked by odd OCD behavior. I would find countless cups of un-drunk coffee around the house, but he would still be brewing. Yeh, it could get old. So the memories and associations that slammed me yesterday were wrought with a variety of feelings: a sense of being bereft, simple sorrow, and, yes, relief -- that the days of spilled coffee and beans all over the floor were over. That, alone, is sad. It makes me feel like I'm a cold and insensitive woman. Thankfully, I know that is not and was not the case ...

So my response was to basically indulge in a sick day. Yesterday (a Friday) I nestled-down in my bed. Thankful for my Roku (Christmas gift from my son), I caught-up on some of my favorite programs -- and became quite involved in a new one -- a "comfort" show -- Downton: Not too much peril to be upsetting -- just enough excitement -- and good, old fashioned love. Wonderful. Comforting. But my productivity was next to nil -- aside from making sure that I had three delightful little meals (on a tray transportable to my bedroom) and a delightful snack of cheddar and crunchmasters. yum. A day of self-indulgent escape. It was good for my soul -- but not so good for my tax deadline. It was supposed to snow, offering even further excuse for my self-centeredness, but it didn't. That was a bummer. But you know what? I didn't wallow in self-pity. I just enjoyed my simple pleasures day. Everybody needs one of those from time to time. It actually probably prevented me from going to the self pity place. So kudos to me!

Besides, this afternoon (yeh, another whole morning plus of the same hibernation ...) I vacuumed my wood floors and did some laundry. I've been keeping up with the dishes, too, and that is saying something!

Some of my most fond memories of David are those lazy afternoons that we spent together when the kids were at school. He would return home from a long weekend away and then really just want and need to spend the next day resting and recuperating. We enjoyed downtime together -- sometimes shopping, sometimes ..., sometimes indulging in videos -- movies or television series that we watched on DVD (Netflix really catered to our ways ...). Lazy days -- spent together in our family room stretched out on the sofa and easy chair -- enjoying some drama or adventure. It was like manna after a long, separated weekend. I miss those lazy days. I miss him. See how I got there?

So this evening, I'm playing some loud music (that I wonder if he would like ...) and doing a little laundry and housework (yay!) but I still haven't shaken those feelings of familiarity ... the delightful lazy days spent together here in our home after a weekend apart. I wonder if I'll ever really forget this feeling -- of liberty with a day and knowledge that I was not alone. I was with my husband -- my chosen companion.

But now he's not here -- so sometimes I just I do it alone -- me and my dog, (who isn't really good company when it comes to discussing the finer details of plot lines or predicting what is going to happen in a favorite storyline). Right now all I can think is "damn."

But tomorrow is a new day ... and he would expect me to plant my feet on the floor and thank God for "One More Day." I don't do that ... and sometimes feel guilty. But I'm the one left behind. I often wonder if he would be so hopeful and positive if the tables had been turned and it was he who found himself facing each day on his own. But he brewed his own coffee, so maybe he would have been okay. I brew my own coffee, too. Maybe I'm going to be okay, as well.