it's almost 2:20 AM right now. again. i can't sleep. i haven't been able to since he died. i miss him. it's so tragic and it takes my breath away. i'm exhausted and nothing can knock me out. a glass of wine. a cup of tea. no pill i've taken. i don't know what to do to shut my mind off for just a single night of even 6 hours of solid, uninterrupted sleep. i ache all over but not from any flu. i ache from life. dare i say i'm tired of living? it doesn't look good to see it sitting there. people freak when they hear someone say they are tired of living. but it's a true statement. some people have lives that just wear them out. it has nothing to do with helping it along to the finish line. it is a simple statement that mean life has hurt you, taken from you more than you can bear to lose.
i am so alone. my daughter has been so busy. i haven't seen her since last week. i'm lonely for some company to just visit with me. i'd like to see more of this city than the grocery store once every two weeks. i walk to the library but the books i read take me nowhere, not like they used to.
i am so tired. money is so tight. i'd like to go shopping. just buy something. a candle. a silk flower. a daisy.
my husband used to sing to me. he had a low, deep, whiskey voice. he like country music, older songs. i had not danced since high school until i met him. my first husband thought i looked stupid. humiliation is a powerful reminder not to do something. but my beloved second husband, my dragon, taught me to dance. he'd hold me and we'd waltz around the house. and he'd sing.
"He remembers the first time he met her
He remembered the first thing she said
He remembered the first time he held her
And the night that she came to his bed
He remembers her sweet way of sayin'
Honey has something gone wrong
He remembered the fun and the teasin'
And the reason he wrote her this song.
I'll give you a daisy a day dear
I'll give you a daisy a day
I'll love you until the rivers run still
And the four winds we know blow away."
there are more verses and he'd sing them all to me sometimes. he sang it to me on the day that he died. we'd gone to walk the beach. it was February in Rockport and there was snow and ice everywhere. the waves were coming in hard from a storm further out at sea. we dressed warmly and held mitten-covered hands. he pulled me close and held me tight and we danced on the beach while he sang that song in my ear. i laughed and kept my face in his neck to keep my nose warm. it's a moment that i'll remember forever. it will haunt me just as long.
"I'll give you a daisy a day dear
I'll give you a daisy a day
I'll love you until the rivers run still
And the four winds we know blow away."
i wonder if where he is he's aware he still loves me? i want so desperately to know that he's at peace in Heaven and waiting for me but at almost 2:30 AM, i'm so tired and in such despair. i have no one to call.
"it's the friends you can call at 3 AM that really matter." i don't have a friend i can call at 3 PM. and i won't share this burden with my adult daughter. she's worried enough about not doing enough.
God, it's such a simple little tune. "i'll give you a daisy a day dear....." it gets into your mind, attaches to the rhythm of your heart beat and stays there.
i wish i could sleep. dream of him. even if i dream him alive and wake crying, i've had that chance to be near him once more. once more every night. "to sleep perchance to dream."
i'm so tired. i wish i could sleep. maybe its so bad at night because i think of the time he died. midnight. it's like looking at a painting. stand too close and all you see are patches of color. stand too far back and you miss the detail. maybe i'm too close to the painting. i need to try to find a place to put that time. midnight. 11:30 PM until 12:30 AM. midnight in the garden of good and evil.
what a great book. the garden is the stone garden, the cemetery. 11:30 to midnight, good magic can be done. midnight to 12:30, and on i guess, it's bad magic. he died just after midnight. i looked at the clock. they came and told me they hadn't been able to save him at 12:03 AM. midnight in the garden of evil.
i wish i could sleep. i wish i could go to sleep just one more night beside him and feel his heart beating steadily, strongly, warmly under my hand. i wish he would sing me that song one more time.
4 comments:
been there, sweet friend.
praying for you.
In college, my friends used to laugh because I could literally fall asleep anywhere (and I wasn't a partier). If I sat still long enough, my body thought it was time to sleep and it did so.
After my wife passed away, it was one of the many things I could not do. No matter how still I sat/laid, I'd be awake till all hours (much as you were last night) wishing I could just fall asleep for a little while. Then the alarm would sound and it would be time to begin another day.
The only times I slept much at all during the first year and a half were when I was visiting family or they were visiting me. Something about having other adults in the house allowed me to rest a little more peacefully somehow.
And over the last nine months or so, my sleep pattern has finally begun to return to normal. But with all that new-found rest, I have only dreamed about her three times...
On another note... people often want to help, but just don't know what to do. It sounds like you may have to do what is often very hard (especially for me) and ask. Surely there is someone from your old town you could talk to, even if there isn't anyone in the new one. I find that I am most comforted when I can talk to someone who actually knew/remembers my wife, even if only as an acquaintance. And I would imagine your daughter is in the same boat as far as wanting to help and just not knowing what to do.
Wishing you a night of consistent rest.
3SF is right. People don't know. Is there someone to whom you could articulate this need -- for a late-night lifeline -- gently if you wish, or just as honest as you do here? And if they said no, you would understand it was about them, not you?
When my husband was diagnosed, a friend who'd been widowed said, "People will surprise you. Some bad, some good." She was right.
Being able to ask demonstrates more strength than you realize. Likely someone will think this is a very small favor. Likely you will feel better knowing it's available even if you never use it.
I wish you comfort.
X
Supa
P.S. for the first year or so I could only sleep using this CD on my ipod: http://tinyurl.com/ocfw85.
I sleep and I wish I could dream of him. I don't though. I don't dream of anything and when I wake my abdominal muscles are so sore-like I've done 500 sit ups. Wish I knew what I do when I finally conk out at night.
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