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.  

Alone.

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.”