i lay on my side, eyes closed, in a twin bed. my husband was in the twin bed next to me and our two month old in a bassinet on the floor in between us. no room in between our three beds. there we were: one, two, three in a row. the walls swallowed us on either side. we were as close as we could be in our separate beds.
i had my eyes closed and was trying hard not to cry. my mom, dad, and youngest sister had just left that afternoon. i probably won't see two thirds of them for 12 months. i was in this tiny room, so close to two others, but I felt so alone. my people, my family... they had left me.
this happened last year. and the year before that. and almost every year since i left for college eight years ago. it never gets easier.
i whispered into the darkness, "can you hold me?"
because i just didn't want to be alone in the cold twin bed. just me and the sadness. i was trying not to be sad. but that's like trying not to breathe.
i'm used to them leaving and i'm used to leaving them... but you never get used to the sadness. it's always overwhelming. sometimes it's just a good cry. sometimes it's days of feeling "off". but no matter how long it takes...that weird emptiness is always there. the void where people, conversation, good food, jokes, and friction collide. i get them for a minute...and then they're gone.
it's sort of like when i hear god. it's there...and then it's gone. and I long for the time when we connect again.
as i lay there with my husbands strong arms holding me my tears leaked out. silently. out of the corner of my eye, traveling over my nose, joining the other tear filled eye making bigger tears that dripped down the side of my face.
i wasn't sure if he could feel my wet face as he held me. but then i couldn't keep it in. and i cried and cried over the emptiness.
i missed them.
i missed them.