In my younger days I was a night owl. I was happiest when the world was quiet and the sky was dark. I used to believe I was most creative at night. I worked on some of my best arts and craft projects at night.
But now I hate the nighttime. My years with Bryon had ended my night owl habits because Bryon was not a night owl and he didn’t like it when I stayed up. I did get reacquainted with the wee hours when my daughter was born and thrilled to find that I could find episodes of Blossom and Step by Step playing. Love me some 1990’s Patrick Duffy.
I find now that even if I am exhausted, I will find whatever reason I can put off going to bed. I will work late. I will watch TV. I will read a book. I will attempt to clean. I will write pointless blog posts like this one that people won’t read because the title will be depressing and not controversial. But I put off going to sleep every night because I miss Bryon. I think back to all our arguments where we accused the other that they were hogging the bed. I know it wasn’t me, but it doesn’t seem fair to point that out since he is not here to defend himself. I think about our arguments where I got mad because he liked to sleep with the TV on and I wanted silence. I also think about how I got annoyed because he was a cuddler and I am not. (I just wanted to sleep).
And now I lie in bed alone every night and I miss him. So I stay awake until I am so tired that I know I will fall asleep almost immediately.
I miss Bryon. I miss my husband. I miss my best friend. I miss my co-parent.
I miss sharing stories from my day with him.
I miss having him to turn to if I need advice.
I miss his big bear hugs.
I miss our conversations which could be on any topic from World Peace to our last poop.
Instead it is just me.
It’s not fair. I was happy with my life. I don’t know we did to deserve this. Why does everyone else get to have seemingly normal, happy lives where I have one that is filled with sadness and pain?
I don’t know why this had to happen? The whole thing is senseless.
I will always replay what happened in my head. Though there was nothing I could do. I can still feel how helpless I felt as Bryon was clinging to his life. I was at the mercy of the doctors and God and both failed us.
I am so tired of people defending God to me. Everyone seems to love that guy, except me. I don’t understand how people can expect me to be able to love the being that took Bryon from me. Nope.
It dawned on me today that I don’t ever have to get married again. Some people live their lives without ever being happily married and I was. The only problem was that I expected it last many decades like my parents and grandparents. This was not how I envisioned it ending.
We full-filled our marriage vows. Maybe that’s it. Maybe I have done all the married living I am going to do. Maybe I am in a post-married phase that most people don’t ever get to experience. Maybe I am meant to live the life of an eccentric yet adventurous old lady. Maybe I should raise my daughter and then get an apartment in Paris. I always wanted to live in Paris. Or maybe I will buy a farmhouse on the Maine coast. The possibilities are endless.
What Bryon and I had was real. I knew true love. I am pretty certain it will never happen again because lightning doesn’t strike twice.
I am somewhere between being a constant emotional mess and a shell of the person I used to be.
And the last thing I want to do is date even if I want male attention. But I know I want attention for the wrong reasons.
I followed rules. I played it safe my whole life. And I still wind up in a painful existence. Maybe I should have thrown more caution to the wind in my younger days. I should have been carefree but I spent all my time worrying about things that didn’t matter.
Somedays I will think I am in a good place. Then all it takes is one memory or one song to undo my good day. And don’t get me started on Facebooks “On This Day.”