It’s not like I’d never spent a night alone before. Robert used to travel West Texas and New Mexico selling animal feeds and products, and I spent many nights alone. But that was different. In the first place, I knew he’d call before he went to bed, and we’d chat and share our day and the trials and triumphs of the three kids.
But secondly, and most important, I knew he’d be home in a couple of nights. Not any more. I walked the floors of our home in the darkness, no lights turned on, just wondering how I was going to make the night. And the many to come.
Robert’s two precious sisters, one divorced and one widowed, stayed with me for about a week after my grown kids had to leave to go back to their lives. They, too, had known pain.
Dot and Mae listened to my endless chatter and questioning of “why?” All that chatter wasn’t like me, but I found I needed to tell somebody about Robert, our lives, how we met, how he died, our kids, our plans for the future, funny things he said, and how he took such good care of me, and on and on, ad nausum. Those sweet, dear women listened, laughed, and listened some more. I only stopped talking during a solid week when they stuck a sandwich in my hand.
Finally I ran down. Robert’s sisters went back to their lives, and I didn’t need to talk much any more. I just needed to know what to do with the rest of my life. Monday I had to go back to my job as a third grade school teacher with a little fear. I knew I had to start my life back up again.
But I remember thinking, “What do I do tonight?”
“O LORD, you give me light; you dispel my darkness, You give me strength….” (Psalm 18:28, 29 GNT)
Reba, your blog is beautifully written and so heartfelt. I would expect nothing less from you. Beth
Beth, thank you for understanding what is in my heart. If you have any widow friends, please send them in my direction. I want to help them if I can.
I will do that!