The Amputation of Love
So I read a blog tonight about how being a Widow feels like an amputation. How you will NEVER get back the piece of your life that is missing. It will never be the same.
I agree.
The poster went on to talk about all of the “us” things that are missing after you lose your spouse. Like who do you ask where the goddamn plunger is? I have a stopped up sink and FOR THE LIFE OF ME, I can’t find the plunger. However, I’m pretty creative. I know that if you pour enough bleach down anything, the blockage will eventually go away. But I still want to know what in God’s Green Acres he did with the plunger!
And the bunnies. The bunnies were Michael’s “pet project”. He had them tamed. Now I let them out and Frankie (the one he’s had for five years) won’t even come near me. He sits under the kitchen table and pouts. Frankie IS PISSED that Michael isn’t here. And Bob (the toddler) tries tearing as much shit up as he can. And guess what? They’ll fight and Michael isn’t here to break them up so I have to do “bunny exercise rotations.” It’s a pain in the ass.
Now add in Michael’s garden. It was EPIC. We had enough tomatoes to feed the whole neighborhood. But guess who wasn’t around long enough to learn all of Michael’s gardening skill? What am I supposed to do when the perennials start showing up? I, mean, how many radishes does one need?
That was Michael’s wheelhouse. Not mine.
Now add in a Wounded Warrior to all of these little quirks and eccentricities. People that have lost their loves often have problems sleeping because there isn’t someone in the same bed with them.
I’m having problems sleeping because there isn’t a “trained killer” in the same house as me. Does that sound odd? Probably. But the “Warrior Lovers” will get it. Of this, I am sure.
The bed thing, I’ve got down. We were usually on different schedules because he was a night owl and I had to work. I’m okay with that one. However, I’m not okay with being in our home alone with the knowledge that there is no one here to protect me.
The rabbits don’t bark. Unfortunately.
Now add in my bad dreams. It’s like the PTSD monster is RELENTLESS in his pursuit to claim lives. Michael used to have terrible dreams and shudder in his sleep.
I bet you can take a pretty good guess at who is probably doing that now.
I sleep with a knife next to my bed.
Let’s talk security while we are at it. In my former life, I was one of those people that would go shopping for three hours with the house unlocked and the windows up.
Now I lock the door as soon as I walk in it.
You see, there are all kinds of things that I am now missing. Like the SECURITY of having a Warrior in my home. The RESTFUL SLEEP of being protected. The KNOWLEGE of how to create a proper garden. The CONFIDENCE of knowing how to break up a rabbit fight. And I’m still wondering WHERE IN THE HELL IS THE PLUNGER?
These are all losses that I will never be able to regain.
The thing is, the CONSTANT in my life has been cut off at the root.
When I turn the key in the door and hear the familiar sound of the tumblers falling into place, I know that I am coming home to an empty house with only bunnies for company.
Michael used to unlock the door for me every night. Now Michael isn’t here anymore.
The only thing left for me are the phantom pains of a life that I used to live and love.
My name is Leilani. I’m missing a very vital part of me. I’m missing my Love.
