Now my mornings are quite different. While I hear many who are grieving say that night time is the hardest, it is quite opposite for me. Maybe it's because I don't have trouble sleeping at night (thanks to the above-mentioned work schedule). Whatever the reason, I'm grateful that I'm usually asleep within minutes of my head touching the pillow.
But the morning feels almost like the 1993 movie "Groundhog Day". If you are not familiar with it, here is a brief synopsis:
A weather man is reluctantly sent to cover a story about a weather forecasting "rat" (as he calls it). This is his fourth year on the story, and he makes no effort to hide his frustration. On awaking the 'following' day he discovers that it's Groundhog Day again, and again, and again. First he uses this to his advantage, then comes the realization that he is doomed to spend the rest of eternity in the same place, seeing the same people do the same thing EVERY day.
You see, when I sleep it is my escape from reality. Dreams are odd, yet sometimes wonderful, things. We can do the impossible in our dreams. Even on those nights I don't remember any dreams, my mind seems to be at rest and I don't have to listen to that constant tape playing over and over. You know, that awful commentary about what has happened, what life is like now, what the future may or may not hold, and what I've lost. Yes...sleep is peaceful. Sleep makes me happy.
But then I have to wake up.
And I have to remember. All over again, every time I wake up, I have to remember. "Oh yeah, he's gone. Forever. He's gone forever. He got sick and he died. I watched him suffer and he died. I held his hand. I talked him through his last breaths. I planned and attended his funeral. I visit the cemetery. I have to accept that he's not ever coming back. He died. And I miss him. I will always miss him. I will always love him. But he's gone."
I don't look forward to the morning anymore. Some days are more difficult than others. I have a hard time feeling any satisfaction knowing that I have a whole day ahead of me. A day that I can be productive or just lazy if I feel like it.
I come home from work and his boots are still sitting there.
His shoes are still under the bed.
His jackets hang in the closet.
The items on his bedside table remain untouched (except for an occasional dusting off).
But he's not here. He's not standing in front of the stove cooking a delicious breakfast. So there is no need for me to sit at the kitchen table. He's not here to discuss an article in the newspaper. So there is no need to read it. He's not here to help me decide what to do today. So there is no need to make any plans.
I can hold onto his things forever. I can try to maintain some sort of a routine. But it won't change the fact that he's gone.
And I have to remember that every morning when I wake up. Will there ever come a time when this isn't my first thought of the day? When I don't go through a play-by-play of those fateful weeks in my head? Or am I, as in the movie, "doomed to spend the rest of eternity in the same place, seeing the same people do the same thing EVERY day"? I can somewhat forget all of this while I sleep. Only to wake up and experience my heart breaking all over again. Every. Single. Morning.
As the day moves forward, it gets a little easier. My mood usually lightens as the sun begins to rise. I enjoy hearing the birds sing. I start to look forward to a few things. I begin to imagine the possibility that this day holds. I still miss him every single moment of every day. But the mornings are definitely the most difficult.
My nightmares begin the minute I wake up.
I Miss You.
I lost my husband 9 months ago. And it's such a relief to know that someone else has problems with the mornings. Waking up to the realization that he is gone - it hurts like hell every single day. Like you, as the day progresses it gets better but those few moments after waking are a real struggle.
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