This is Our House. This is Our Life. But Your Not Here

by on October 15th, 2010
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It was almost unreal except for the fact that when I woke up this morning and turned towards you… you were not there. The loneliness crushed me as I got out of bed and tried to go about my day like any other day. Every day before was you. Loving, laughing, playing and living life to the fullest. It was not like any other day though; I didn’t know what to do so I sat there in the computer chair staring out the window without purpose. It was a huge two windows side by side separated by only a think piece of trim. I remember the window so well, every scratch on the glass and every nick in the wood. It was raining by then so I watched each drop hit the window pane and slide slowly down to the bottom of the widow outside. Even the rain didn’t have a purpose I realized. It never knew where it was going to fall, just that it was falling. I found the energy through my greatest despair to get out of the chair and get the kids ready for school, get the baby dressed and drive them to school.

Once I was home, I somehow found my way back into the computer chair gazing out the window once again.

Flashbacks flooded my mind of the anticipation I felt while waiting for you to get home from work before. I would check the window for your truck at least 100 times a day. When I seen your truck pull into the drive, this release came over me. The wait was over. You would walk through the door and each day that you walked through that door I would think to myself, “Wow, I am one very lucky woman for this man to come home to every evening.” I never said it out loud but each and every time you walked through the door I would repeat the same thing to myself over and over every day

As the days went by, I found myself in front of that window every single day waiting for you, however, knowing you was not coming home but it didn’t stop me from sitting there. The days it didn’t rain, I would watch the wind blow the leaves on the trees. I watched the kids play with pure enjoyment on the swing set then fishing by the creek that was right in front of our house; well, now it was just my house. I would bath the kids then put them in bed. From there, I spent my nights sitting in front of that window still waiting for you.

The nights were the worst because I traveled down memory lane all night long, tossing and turning. When I did sleep, I woke up in cold sweats crying uncontrollably with no one there to hear me. I was so far away from everyone I knew and loved and even if they were right there with me, it don’t think it would have made a difference. I finished out the week with the same routine every day and every night. As I filled the U-Haul with everything that was ours; well, just mine now; it all reminded me of you. The coat hanger you rigged up to hold paper towels, the love seat we made love on the first night we moved into our new house and the computer that we would watch movies on all hours of the night then continue our days dead tired from lack of sleep, yet completely satisfied and happy. When I pulled out of the drive way, I never looked back. You made your decision very clear even after me trying and begging you to change your mind.

Back into my home town I began my life anew although empty inside. I was very good at putting on my happy face and I did that for two whole months. I didn’t want anyone to know how hollow I felt in fear of ridicule and the same clichés I was forced to listen to again and again in the beginning. People say the clichés but they hardly ever mean what they say. It’s just things you say to someone who lost someone they built their life around, the only person they ever loved more than themselves in hope that it will comfort them in their time of despair, but it honestly does not.

I job searched, researched daycare’s for the kids and got back in contact with some of my old friends. The first 4 weeks was the hardest trying to get back into the swing of things, back to the times and way I felt before you. I refused to think about you or us. There were times I wanted to but I would not give into the temptation. You forced me to move on so I did. The next 4 weeks got a little easier; you may have deserted me, yet the pain and emptiness you left me with refused to be so kind.

When the phone rang, I was hesitant to pick it up. So many thought rushed through my head in a matter of 6 seconds. Our life together then, my life now, among other confusing suspicions why you would be calling my phone when we both agreed no contact would be the easiest way for both of us. No friends, not even acquaintances, like we never were or never met.

The tension coming from the phone invaded the room before I even said “Hello”, and I could almost feel the tension coming from the receiver on your end as well. At first, it was casual, asking questions about what each of us were doing now, how the kids were and even the weather as we both avoided the most obvious subject of all……us.

We talked again a few days later with a little more sentiment. The discussion wasn’t as tense as the first. I was the first to say it, you were not the only one to make mistakes, I made them too. We let the responsibilities of work, kids, school, bills and life in general stake a wedge between what was once an unbreakable bond. You admitted you weren’t being fair or rational with your wants and needs while I admitted you weren’t the only one who was being unfair and irrational.

We both lost focus on what was the most important part of our lives……us. Our bond is what held this relationship together, it is our bond that makes the impossible…..possible. We agreed that as long as we pull together when the stakes are stacked against us, we’ll get through it. No matter the obstacle, standing side by side, you and I are strong enough to battle, withstand and conquer anything that life throws at us.

We made arrangements to meet up and talk in person about what happened, what went wrong and how to communicate efficiently. I traveled to your house and got out of the car. As I stepped out, the surrounds were familiar to me yet they felt foreign as well. Two months may not sound like a long time, however, when it’s two months with constant sorrow, it feels like much longer. I felt a little out of place as I approached the door. I knocked and could not only see you walking towards the same door I was standing at, but I could feel you moving towards me. (Now it’s about to get mushy for whom ever is reading this).

Things were tense at first, it felt new again and I was nervous. I promised myself I wouldn’t fall back into his arms at the drop of a dime. I was going to stand my ground; pretend I had been doing well during our time of separation. I’ve never had any weaknesses. Nothing that no one could sway me with. We walked downstairs where memories of us still occupied the rooms. The feeling of us was still there, we were very much alive in that area of the house. Looking around the place I could see me and him fixing up the place, I could see the kids running and playing, I could even see him slicing his head on that freakin fuse box that was in the worst place it could possibly be. Then I remembered me cleaning the wound with peroxide while he squirmed and I called him a big puss in fun. Bringing me back from memory lane was the sound of his voice saying the same thing I was thinking and remembering. He said although I was over 60 miles away, I was still there the whole time in that one big room. He said he wouldn’t go into that room because it hurt to feel me there and face the fact that I was gone. He said he could see me there fixing the baby a bottle, I don’t know about how anyone else handles break-ups, separation’s or divorces (whatever you call it, it is the same thing), but the visual memories are the most painful when you let them in.

One thing I realized about losing you and moving on with my life is……….
I can live without you.

But the most important thing that I discovered during my journey is………
I don’t want to!


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