My nights are now spent in a queen bed without my queen. Sleeping pills don’t help much. I read until I’m drowsy but once I turn out the light my mind whirls into gear.
I look to my right where for 37 years Susan used to sleep. There is no head on the pillow, no smooth form under the covers to snuggle up to. I know she’s in a better place—but she’s not here. That’s what hurts.
Live long enough and you’ll find empty spaces where beautiful faces used to be. You’ll lose a parent, spouse, child, friend. More than one. Those with more experience tell me the pain eventually eases but the ache never goes away.
Where is God in the night? The same place he’s always been, sustaining everything but not often tangible to the senses (at least mine). My faith reaches for him in the dark, much the same as my heart reaches for Susie.
Daylight eventually comes. Life goes on. Other relationships require attention, return love, fill the emotional tank, make it worth continuing the journey.