It’s 10:12pm and I’m home from The Trip. Oh, I got home on time this morning. The flight was uneventful.
It’s good to be home although the house needs to be cleaned. I think I’ll come home tomorrow, after work, and clean it.
Munchkin’s room is still the cluttered mess of a whirlwind pixie, there are coffee cups in the sink and the other laundry that didn’t get packed in her suitcase is still waiting to be folded and put away.
I came home today and slept the sleep of one grieving. Not deep and not restful but a brief oblivion. My heart aches. I know that this will pass quickly and I’ll step into the routine of her absence just like she’ll get in to her own routine with her dad.
I know she’s fine. But am I? I thought I was ready for this. To come home, knowing she wasn’t going to be here.
But, tonight, I came down the hall and her nightlight was still on. Going in to turn it off, I lost the battle against my own self and lay down on her little bed and wept. The house feels empty. Even the cats, who run for their lives in fear of her antics, seemed to sense that she was missing.
The house is a little sadder without her here.
I’m sure tomorrow I will look at things a little differently. I am sure that the next time I step on a barbie shoe I will resolve to pack those silly things away and be thankful that I don’t have to mess with them for a while. But tonight I am alone in this house and my heart is broken.
I know she is alright. I know that her father needs this time with her and she with him. I feel that the Lord will bless this time with them and so I am glad she is there. I can only imagine the pain he feels knowing that he has two short months with her and then she will be gone from him again. Tonight, more than ever, I feel like I can begin to understand his grief.
God forgive me when I have begrudged him my sympathy. Tomorrow, I will ask him to forgive me.