Not as Strong as You Think

What is it about nighttime?  Evenings are much more difficult than they were days ago and last night was no exception.  Maybe it's the quiet of the house, the quiet of the darkness, the loneliness.  Not that I don't miss Ed and mourn him during the daylight hours, but I think there is more stimuli around to distract my thoughts.  But as I head to bed, my thoughts turn only to the loss of Ed, the time lost, what will not be, the things I wish I could change.  And I am not strong enough to change these thoughts to focus on the good things we shared and the memories that make me smile.

Last night I went to parish council and then went out with friends afterwards--a routine we've shared for many, many years.  And they were happy to see me and it was good to be among them and we had some good laughs.  It was during the drive home, the same drive I've taken home after choir or council or communications for many years.  But what was different this week is that Ed would not be sitting in his recliner, watching TV, waiting for me.  For he always waited for me to get home before he headed to bed and he was always there as I walked through the door to hear about my evening, to be sure I was home safe.

I like to pretend I'm strong.  So many people say how strong I am.  And maybe on the exterior and out in public I am.  But Ed knew me best and he knew my weakest moments and my greatest fears.  And he would support me and help me through them.  And I cry because I miss this and I'm afraid for when those moments come, like these past two nights, and he isn't here to lift me up.  I know--everyone says he's still with me and I know I will talk to him and share my fears with him.  But he won't be here to tell me what I need to hear.  To comfort me, to hold me, to reassure me and build me back up.  And so as strong as I pretend to be, I'm afraid and I don't want others to see my weak side--that was private, that was for Ed to see alone.

Unfortunately, though, there are many woman of example surrounding me.  Woman who have lost spouses or children and who have somehow marched on.  Who found that inner strength to get up each morning, to wash their face, to comb their hair, and to face the world.  And I know, way down deep inside, that this is what I will continue to do.  Day by day.  But I so wish those painful evenings would go away.  But I so love Ed and I so miss him and his presence and I mourn what will not be and the time lost.

For just one more day, for just one more minute to hold each other...but I can't ask for that because that would be selfish. For I was blessed to have final time with Ed.  Time that so many others may not have with their loved ones.  The days I spent by his side where I could tell him and show him how much I love him.  And during my stronger moments, I am grateful for this.  It's just that this is no one of my stronger moments.

I guess Ed was right when he told Dan that although I am strong this would be really hard on me and so Dan needed to be there to take care of me.  Ed always knew me best...better than I even knew myself at times.