1:52 a.m. .....

...1:52 a.m. was the answer to the question.  After looking at the clock I lay back down and began rehearsing different scenarios in my mind.  We had spent a long time discussing the very things that were playing out in my mind again.  Matthew and I fitfully slept, until I woke with my mind racing.   The “Why’s”, “What if’s” and “When’s” began to jumble in my tired mind. He had brought home a print out listing a job that I may be qualified for.  Yes, I thought, I need to consider getting a job with benefits and one that has a consistent 40 hours a week.  He told me not to worry, we have what I will need, yet the “What if’s” are there.  My stubbornness kicks in and I think to myself of how I am independent and strong.  I will do whatever I have to.

I think of a quote I read yesterday from Eleanor Roosevelt:

We gain strength, and courage, and confidence by each experience in which we really stop to look fear in the face…we must do that which we think we cannot.

...my mind begins to wander again...

…and then she’s there. I had been dreaming about mother when I awoke.  I dream of her almost every night now.  She hovers in my thoughts somewhere between my childhood memories and my “just yesterday” experiences of having her here with me.   I think of the things I could have done better.  I should have played more card games with her.  I shouldn’t have complained so much about having to buy her fast food for lunch.  She was old, sick and lonely.  She was dying long before I knew it.  I should have done more.

…and so there she is lingering in my subconscious ready to appear when the business of the day ends.

I wonder if this will be the case with Matthew?  When he is gone will Matthew also be there close enough that we will have conversations between us in my dreams?  Will the loneliness of not having him next to me in bed make those dreams comforting, allowing me to feel him close again, or will they make the pain of missing him unbearable?  What regrets will I have then? 

...my mind wanders again and my thoughts go to my grandmother.  I think of her loosing her husband when she was so young, pregnant and with 2 toddlers to care for.  How?  How in the world did she do it?  I was so naive when I was with her as a child.  I would love to talk to her today, ask her how to survive this.  She never complained.  I promise myself to remember her when I start to feel sorry for myself.  My life will never be as bad as hers was.

How blessed I am that I have had 36 years with Matthew.  They were not always easy years, there were disagreements, frustrations, misunderstandings, but the older I get the more I forget those and find myself lingering on the goodness of our lives together.  There was so much more joy than sadness.

I think of the frustrations I am feeling, the doctor not calling back, the things that need to be done around the house that he doesn’t feel like doing, my own “OCDness” of wanting to make things around me perfect when the world is collapsing.  I need to paint, clean, clean-out, organize, replace windows, pull weeds, get the hot water tank fixed, rake the hedge, purge the bad, sweeping every corner of my life and mind and find peace in my world.

Stop, I tell myself.  This isn’t helping.

…..and I force myself to listen to his breathing.  I lay my hand on his arm being careful to not wake him.  I pull the covers up around his shoulder.  Keep him warm I think.  In the darkness I can just make out his profile…

…remember, I think, remember how this feels to have him here, right next to me.