Counting Dots…

 

Sometimes, late at night, I stare at the night sky and try to count all the little dots of light. It is impossible. I imagine there are more stars flickering above then are people flickering below. I catch myself wondering if Doyle is among those stars even while I know he is right next to me and a million miles away at the same time. I look up toward the sky and reminisce how his laughter sounded and how his touch felt upon my skin. I try to fight back the tears as I acknowledge that I will never know that sound or touch again. My chest aches because I use all my strength to hold the tears inside my wounded heart. Sometimes, late at night, I scream. During the night, monsters wake and I can see Loneliness and what he can do to the bereaved. I know because he has tried to kill me. I keep waiting for angels to sing or some shit like that, clinging to the hope that he will come back for me. Logically, I know he will never come back for me. I tell the stars that there is no need to keep punishing me but I believe the biggest punishment is yet to come when I wake up in a hundred-year-old body. It has been two-and-a-half years and I miss him more each passing day. I can only imagine what I will be like in 40 years. I fear that is my punishment for loving him so much, to live a long life without him. Tomorrow—July 2 is our wedding anniversary. It will be the third one without him. God help me. I know I will be standing in the darkness counting all the little dots of light and wishing… pointlessly.

 

©Relinda R.

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11 thoughts on “Counting Dots…

  1. Those anniversaries of deaths are so painful. I along with others are praying you find life can be enjoyed again. Until then may you find strength in knowing God will walk each step with you!

  2. i read in a hallmark store the other day this little thing that you can buy that has cute little sayings on them.. there was one that said “perhaps they are not the stars, but rather openings in heaven where the love of our lost ones shines down to let us know they are with us”
    i find myself believing that now 🙂

  3. I wish that there were words that could be said to make the pain go away, but there are none. However, I pray that over time that you find peace that passes all understanding.

  4. I am so very sorry for your loss… your post brought tears to my eyes. A close friend of mine lost his wife several years ago shortly after the birth of their son. He ended up writing a book and creating a website as a result. HoneyIshrunkthegrief.com. Be strong. I apologize for the first unfinished comment as my phone messed up while I was typing….

    • Thank you, Michads. I am sorry to learn of your friend’s loss. I will check out the site. Thank you for reading my post and commenting. I appreciate that.

  5. I lost my husband 3 weeks ago. He was 52. I know what you’re going through. I’m so sorry that you have to go through this. My hope for tomorrow is peace and some solace. I don’t know how to find that yet.

    • I’m so sorry for your loss. I wish I could tell you that it gets better, but it has not for me. My husband was 54. Even though it has been two-and-a-half years, it still hurts like it did that day. You are in my thoughts as you take this journey.

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