Hubby's left for his training stint. Left this morning, same time he leaves for work every day. We don't generally talk or text during the day, though we do email some. So, this day is so far not one bit different than any other weekday. But it feels different. I have no idea why. It makes no sense whatsoever. And yet there is this void, this hole. Maybe it would be more accurate to say that I feel "un-whole."
Six months of this. And I can't let him know how much this hurts, how frightened I am for him, how terrified I am that I'll totally mess up our finances or make some other ghastly faux pas. I have to make this easy for him - as easy as it can be. I can't let him see the panic, the ache, the overwhelming sense of lonely futility. He has to be able to go with an easy heart, certain that I'll be all right. I won't be. I won't be. God help me, I can't do this. And yet I must. I have to. I have to wave and smile and send him off with hand-knit gloves and the memory of a kiss.
And so, again, I die. Shut down everything, wrap the shawls of numbness around my shoulders, stack the dry stone cell of forced hermitage around my heart. Remember how to simply sit. Not sit and think - thinking is far too dangerous. Just sit, ticking the minutes away. And yet I can't even do that. I have to be present for Precious Treasure. Somewhere, there is a toggle within me, an on/off gate for feeling, for living. I know it's there. I remember it. I've used it many times before. But it's dark and I'm alone and I can not find it.
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