I slept on my side of the bed for the first couple months after Jason died but now I’ve migrated to Jason’s half of our king sized bed. It is easier to look to my left and see the empty space that was mine than to obsess and fixate on the cold and vast half of a king sized bed that was once Jason’s side. Klaus sleeps in my place now but he stays near my feet, although this morning I woke up and we were spooning. That dog saves me over and over again.
Sometimes I’ll wake up in the middle of the night and wonder how I got here…to this new side of the bed that I inherited under miserable and unfair circumstances. A king sized bed seemed just right when there were two of us. Now I get lost because there is too much empty space to navigate and I get tangled up under the layers of blankets. Jason always kicked the blankets off because he was too warm. He said I was an electric blanket and I generated too much heat. It must have been him creating all that warmth though because the bed is never too hot now, even with 83 pounds of dog snoring at my feet. I’ve tried to invite Dieter to the slumber party but he prefers to sleep on his own bed, far away from the tossing and turning that happens as I struggle to fall asleep.
This morning at 2 am I was looking on Amazon for a sleep machine…something that had a setting with the sounds of a man snoring. All they had were devices featuring rolling waves, twittering crickets, majestic waterfalls and moving trains. Jason ALWAYS fell asleep before me and his snoring was so loud that I would sometimes pinch his nose or nudge him awake so he’d be silent. But now the silence is deafening. I want to hear the sounds of his rumbling breath and hear the timely click in the back of his throat that once drove me crazy. I’ve read entirely too much about heart abnormalities over the past 4 months and have decided his snoring was a sign of sleep apnea, which could be one of the many factors that contributed to his early departure from my life.
I should have made him go to the doctor. I should have made him drink more water the day before the race. I should have told him not to drink so much caffeine. I should have been running alongside of him rather than walking that day. Maybe I could have told him to STOP RUNNING when he started to feel dizzy. I should have told him I loved him more often. I should have saved him. I know this circular irrational thinking is just part of the crazy that goes along with grief. But still….could I have done something more?
I am on the wrong side of a king sized bed and getting lost in all the empty space he’s left behind. I miss him. I miss him. I miss him. Every single second.