I remember laying face down on the edge of the brown couch. My two month old son and twenty month old daughter were both finally asleep safely in their beds and I collapsed in tears. I was alone. I was in pain. My heart was shattered. My whole body ached. I missed Dan but, for the first time since his passing, I felt something else. It wasn’t him that I missed the most – it was being a wife.
I love our children but I’ve always felt that being a wife was my main calling. I rocked at being a wife! It was my favorite thing in the world and at that moment I didn’t have it anymore. Not tangibly. Eternity felt so far away and living off of the memories wasn’t good enough. I needed solid arms around me. I needed a pair of soft warm lips touching mine.
I felt certain that I would never be loved again as I contemplated suffocation on that sea of brown fabric. I shook uncontrollably and wanted so desperately to be told, “I love you.” I wanted to feel wanted and needed and beautiful. I felt as dark as the sky outside and as cold as a hunted lake in the winter time.
What I had with my late husband was something extraordinary. When I first saw his life-less body on that horrible hospital bed I couldn’t hold back the words, “I don’t want to get married again.” I loved him that much. I wanted him to be MY WHOLE LIFE. I couldn’t imagine anything else.
On that brown couch, as my entire being screamed out to be loved again, I realized that I must have know then several months before as I sat beside that hospital bed. I must have know that I would get married again. I must have known that there was no other option.
I remembered a conversation that Dan and I had once. He told me that if either of us died young, he would want the other to get remarried for the children. For ourselves. We were so in love. Love was such a huge part of us. Even then he knew that without it I wouldn’t survive.
I tried so hard. I was strong and brave and independent at times. At times I felt like I could totally do this on my own but the brown couch feelings would always return. I couldn’t make that longing go away. I needed to be a wife again. I needed a man. I needed MY man but since I couldn’t have him…
I got another one. Not a replacement but another husband nonetheless. A man who loves me with all he has. A man who touches me and kisses me and makes love to me as long and as often as I need him to. A man who thinks I’m sexy and sweet. A man who admires me for all I am and all that I hope to be.