Our bed;
Nearly 40 years we slept in the same bed. I can count on one hand the number of nights we weren’t together in that bed. A warm little child or grandchild would often snuggle between us, everyone was welcome.
The first few nights after he left, when his heart decided it couldn’t beat any longer, two of my grown sons took turns sleeping next to me.
It took me weeks to change the sheets. I didn’t want to lose his scent. At first I would pile pillows where he used to be. I’d drape my leg or arm over them and weep.
The doctor-prescribed sleeping pills had little effect and tho I’d never slept with a television on, now I couldn’t sleep without it. The feeling of aloneness was inconsolable. Particularly in bed, our bed. I’d re-set the television sleep timer over and over all night long.
Waking up was brutal. He used to rise before me, feed our pets, make coffee and bring me a cup. Suddenly I had to function in a lonely house, no coffee, no best friend, I’d return to our bed, burrow in and sob.
Ever so slowly it’s getting easier. Sleep is more restful, no pills, no TV, just the occasional bathroom visit and the irrational cat fight.
Once again mornings are my favorite part of the day, and though winter months are challenging often the sky is a beautiful shade of magenta and the sun has regained it’s brilliance.
I still live in our house, I still sleep in our bed where I cuddle our grandkids. Slowly but surely it’s becoming my house, my room and even my bed. Someday I might share my bed but I’ll never wipe away the faint outline, on the headboard, where his head once rested
I still live in our house, I still sleep in our bed where I cuddle our grandkids. Slowly but surely it’s becoming my house, my room and even my bed. Someday I might share my bed but I’ll never wipe away the faint outline, on the headboard, where his head once rested
