Valeria is a devoted Messianic Christian/Evangelist, Widow/Mother/Grandmother … hoping for great grandchildren; ardent Home Educator Advocate, an adventurous Daytripper, and a colorful Yarn Artist/Designer. Valeria likes scenic walks, to read, listen to/share music, does Pinterest, and very vociferously documents life and a variety of current topics on Blogger and FB.
I WON'T BACK DOWN
Sunday, September 15, 2019
MY MIND & BODY REMEMBERS
I woke up this morning to the sound of raindrops tap-dancing on the roof and swirling down the drain pipe.
I felt my eyes slowly open …
And, by a habit of their own, as they had done for 44 years – they looked over to Bob’s side of the bed.
And were sadly disappointed.
Bob wasn’t there.
Bob’s physical body will never be on his side of the bed again.
I reached out my hand and ran it down the unwrinkled smoothness of the blanket on that side of the bed.
And I cried.
I miss Bob.
I miss how he used to reach out with his long arm and pull me into his chest when he felt me shift and turn towards him.
I miss Bob’s touch.
I miss those sleepy, early morning cuddles.
I miss the way the hairs on the top of my head would catch on the sandpaper stubble on his cheeks when I snuggled closer into his embrace.
I miss his wide shoulders, and the tickly hair on his strong and manly chest; I miss laying across that chest. I miss kissing that chest.
I miss his hands; hands that were long and shapely: hands that were strong, yet gentle … hands that were also tenderly passionate and knowingly loving when they touched, and tuned my body.
Fresh tears, hot and racing down my cheeks on their journey of sadness, remember that Bob always kept his fingernails cut short because cleanliness was important to him – and he didn’t want his fingernails to hurt me with his loving ministrations when the caresses morphed into lovemaking.
I miss the tenderness of his lips on mine.
I touch my fingertips to my lips because I can remember clearly how his kisses felt … and tasted.
I choke on tears.
I miss my husband.
I miss Bob’s sleepy husky, “I love you” when he would pull me close during those early morning snuggles.
I still know his form, his embrace, his kiss.
The feel of his body becoming one with mine – taking us to soaring heights.
And, I miss it.
There are no words to describe all the emotions I am feeling.
I still “feel” falling asleep on Bob’s chest; listening to his heart thump-thump thump out a love-song to my heart.
I have missed that feeling every second of the past 9 months, 1 day, and 9 hours-18 minutes.
I know that I will never touch my husband’s body again.
I will never kiss his lips again.
I will never feel his lips or his hands on my body again.
Bob will never be physically available again – no matter how much I wish for his warmth next to me, or his touch on my skin, of the igniting flames of his searing kisses … I will never feel my husband next to me ever again.
As long as I live.
I can’t breathe.
My heart is ramping into overdrive with that painful knowledge.
My new reality settles over me like a heavy, wet blanket.
I feel nauseated.
My heart starts misfiring, and I feel disoriented: I am heart-sick.
I pull my hand back from the empty side of the bed.
The rain is still singing its song as it races along the roofline gutter and slides down the downspout. It is too loud in this sielnt bedroom which used to resound with soft sounds.
I think of Bob’s spirit riding the clouds, and I know, that even though we are separated by time and space …
Our hearts, and our spirits are still connected.
Bob is far away – and yet, his spirit is closer than it seems.
Sometimes, I can feel the “essence” of him with me.
I glance around our bedroom: perhaps his spirit is with me now.
Trying to lighten the mood with his engaging sexy smile.
Trying to shower me with his love, even when his arms can no longer physically hold – or comfort me.
Fresh tears slide down my face and wet my pillow case.
I’m worried that as time goes on, I will slowly forget how it felt to be physically touched, kissed, snuggled, and loved by my husband.
I close my eyes tight and force my mind to remember exactly how his chin would rest on the top of my head while he lightly dozed as he held me tight against him.
Where exactly did his long leg hook over my hip as we lay together spoon fashion as our fevered bodies cooled, and our eyes slowly closed for another half hour of cat-napping.
Where exactly did Bob’s hands rest on my breast when he pulled me closer into a sleepy hug.
Subconsciously my hand slides to the center of the bed.
I never want to forget what it felt like to sleep next to my gentle giant.
I never want to forget how Bob would always sleep with his long feet out of the bottom edge of the blankets – and I quietly laugh when I remember, how as a new bride "taking care of her new husband", I used to tip-toe into the bedroom during my night-owl hours and pull the kicked back covers down over them … and he would sleepily complain because his “feet were too hot”: our daughter did the same thing, even as a baby in her crib! I eventually stopped covering their feet up. LOL
I never want to forget … and I try to remember how, exactly, our hands lay tangled together; fingers intertwined as we drifted off to sleep every single night, for 192,795 thoroughly satisfying nights.
Was our love making exactly like I remember it to be?
And I burst into a loud laugh through my tears because I can “feel” and “hear” Bob say, “It was better than you remember it, Val: you’re one hot mama.”
Trace Adkin’s song, ‘Hot Mama’ was the ringtone Bob set to his phone for my phone number.
I remember how I cried over that simple & silly thing after Bob stepped off this planet and would never need his phone again; or ever hear that ringtone again when I called him, just to say, "I love you Babe. Stay safe out there on the road and come home to me in one piece".
I lay there.
Listening to the rain.
Bob will never hear the rain again either.
I mentally try to imagine Heaven – is there rain in Heaven?
Probably not; heaven is perfect – there would be no need for rain in Heaven.
I remember how safe, and fortunate, I felt to be lying in bed beside Bob for 44 blissfully wonderful years.
It was everything I ever dared dream love to be.
I smile because Bob promised me when he talked me into marrying him & buying those 2 plain gold wedding bands, that I would never regret marrying him.
I never did; Bob lavished love on me. Bob made me believe in lasting love.
And Bob was easy to love too – Bob was love personified.
I miss the way we would roll towards each other, and our eyes would open at the same exact moment - and we'd smile a sleepy smile, scooting closer together: there was such an immediate intimacy with that sudden eye contact, and love sparked.
Without a word spoken.
I miss the way Bob’s eyes said ‘I love you honey’.
I knew I was loved just by the way his eyes sparked and smoldered when they looked at me.
I will always remember – and cherish for the rest of my life - that unspoken love springing to life in the quiet hours, when the world was still except for our beating hearts.
I remember too, waking up in the middle of the night and rolling over on my stomach to watch Bob peacefully sleep – he always looked like a little boy without a care in the world.
I drank the sight of my handsome man in; and was thankful that for those brief moments of sleep he didn’t have a care. And the world seemed far, far away.
I’m grateful I have these memories of us.
I feel incredibly blessed that Bob took the time to make sure those memories of us are wonderful.
And I am thankful that Elohim favored Bob with a blessedly peaceful passing from this life into the next – even in that, Bob showed incredible strength and style.
Bob was always a blessing.
And I am sure, that he is still a blessing now, beyond the clouds.
Now, that I sleep alone in our fancy spacious and comfortable California King bed with all the ‘bells & whistles’ … the only electrifying thing I really want, I can’t have anymore.
What I wouldn’t do to roll back time if I could, and feel the bed move as Bob rolled onto his side; again.
I pull my hand back from the middle of the lonely bed.
I get up and plug the coffee pot in.
And I smile remembering that when we were newlyweds Bob hated coffee.
But over time, he drank as much – if not more – coffee as I did.
The coffee tastes good, but drinking it is not the same without standing next to Bob and looking out into the early morning hours. What I used to enjoy alone, I no longer enjoy alone.
Nothing is the same without him.
Itseems surreal that Bob is physically dead and absent from my life. Forever.
I wish he were here now.
I want my husband back.
Is that selfish?
Would I really wish Bob back from Heaven; to be here with me, if I had the power to do that?
In unguarded moments, I can’t wrap my thoughts around the fact that it’s been three quarters of a year since Bob lay next to me, smiled at me, laughed with me, walked with me, touched me.
Said he loved me. It still seems surreal.
Here’s what I do know ...
There is not a day goes by where Bob is not in my thoughts – even though he is no longer physically in my life.
There is not a day goes by where Bob is not felt in my life – his essence will be forever imprinted on my life. Forever.
And as I pad back to the bedroom to make the bed, I glance longingly at Bob’s side of the bed – and I KNOW that there is not a single place in my mind, on my body … in my body ... where Bob had not left his mark.
His life touched mine.
He left his fingerprints all over me.
Those imprints will never fade.
Bob will always be alive to me.
My thoughts will always seek him.
And my body will always hum and sing just for him.