Friday, August 24, 2012

A moment

Each and every morning Jesse leaves for work just as my eyelids begin to crack open.  (He's a go-getter that man of mine.)  He quietly comes into the room, sweetly kneels down beside the bed and whispers "I've got to go now."  A quick kiss and a hug and "I love you" later he is out the door and I am left in our quiet dark room to begin waking up.

Its a pretty simple, routine exchange really.  Nothing overly dramatic or drawn out.  It is just us starting our day apart from one another.

But, somewhere in all of that, there is this moment. 

Sometimes it is when I hear him rustling around tying his shoes, or in that second when the light cracks through the door as he walks in.  Sometimes it is in the click of the front door closing or the sound of his engine starting.  There is this moment when in my head I have seen him for the last time.

Just hang in there with me for a minute, I promise it will be worth it.

Each and every morning I have this impending feeling that we just said our final goodbyes.  Its silly, I know.  A bit morbid and pessimistic, and all around just not the best way to start your day.  Jesse knows this about me.  I have told him before.  Sometimes in the morning I tell him again either through words or tears.  But most of the time he just knows. 

I would guess that this feeling comes from having lost someone that I loved so dearly in such a sudden and tragic way.  I prepare myself over and over again . . . just in case.  "Perhaps," I think, "maybe this time it won't sting so badly if I am ready."  I don't believe that of course but it is a residual burden that I bear.  But, oh to lay there in the dark as he drives away, forcing every ounce of my will power not to jump up and run out the door behind him, is a heavy load for a body just waking up to face the day.

But for all of the fear and doubt and illogical thinking that enters my mind in those quiet minutes of the morning, there is also this peaceful sweetness that I have discovered.  For in that moment when my heart is uncontrollably falling to pieces my senses do something amazing, something that I wish I could replicate for all of the moments in my life.  Suddenly the way that he smells overtakes me, and his whispers become echos in my ears playing repeatedly until the tone of his voice is written on my memory.  Every line and shadow of his face is obvious even in the darkness and the soft prickle of his whiskers leave lasting impressions on my skin when he leans in to kiss me goodbye.  It is those brief impressions that get me through the day.  I know that at any given time I can recall them vividly.  A tangible memory is the best way that I can think to describe it.

I have never felt more present in time, in my earthly body than in that moment.  Somehow it is this feeling, this calm that allows me to let him go with just the words "I love you."  I know, deep down that those words were spoken in real time without regard to what happened yesterday or what will happen the second that he is out of my sight.  I love him and he loves me with all that a moment in time can offer. 

I wouldn't wish the feeling of loss on anyone, even if it is imagined, premature or unfounded but I do hope that everyone at some point in their life can experience the gift that is the present, even if it disguises itself as something ugly.

Because now that moment is my favorite moment of the day.

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