Tuesday, January 15, 2008

Just Babies, really...

That's all we really were. I needed him and he needed me. I am standing here on the edge of what feels like it will be a very long and bad stretch of time. I don't know why (yes I do) and I am frightened of what the days ahead hold. I can't pretend it away. I've tried...I've tried to tell myself that I will be "okay" without him and then I begin to doubt it. Hanging on, hang on, be there, I say to myself. Look, look, look at your kids.

Really, thinking about it...he helped me with my insecurities (there are so many) he told me I was beautiful even though I never saw it in myself. He praised my intelligence, all the while doubting his own. I remember, one night after I had gone back to college early in our marriage, showing him my grades. An earnest, beseeching question from him. "Do you think that I am stupid?" A little boy...wanting the assurance that no, he definitely was not stupid. God, he was so not stupid. I used to look at the programs he wrote, and listen to the things he said about them in awe. For I am truly dumb with numbers. Any household problem, troubles with the car...fixed, by him, before I could even begin to stress. But that one question of his,"Do you think I am stupid?" rang in my head and made me hurt so badly for him all of the years of our marriage. He was the baby in his family. I, the baby in mine. In my family, I was the only girl...adored by her father...tolerated by her mother at first. A tolerance that grew into disgust and competition. I craved love. I needed love. He gave that to me. He was the younger of two boys. The one that his father told his mother,"you can mess up, I've already got a boy." Or so that is what Leonard always felt. The heir...and the spare. The second. The stupid. The one who was always told so by his father. Always told, whenever he did something,"Now why the hell didn't you come to me and ask about it?" Now why would he? Why should he ask a drunkard. The man who took so many chances with his sons' lives that it was a wonder he existed for me to fall in love with? Here I should be grateful that he survived all of that...but he is still gone...not here...never to live here on earth with I who need and love him ever again. He nurtured me. I nurtured him. We gave each other the things we both craved as children. I still need that.

So I sit here in this empty house where we used to love each other, encourage each other, and cheer each other on. And it is such an overwhelming feeling of loneliness and need tonight. And I can't see it ending. Not when he is in my blood. I need to go house hunting with him, and watch stupid World Poker Tour episodes, to fix him a sandwich at 11 PM at night, I need to fight with him over the credit card payment being a little bit late, or our differing parenting ideas. I ache with this need. I need him to turn to me in the middle of the night and wrap me in his arms, burying his face (his oh so beautiful face) in my neck. A whispered,"Love you". That's what I need. I am selfish. I can't help it.

16 comments:

Gina said...

I can say nothing to satisfy your need, just know that you are not selfish at all.

Hugs...

Shari said...

I lurked yesterday, but didn't know what to say that hasn't been said already. You know we are all here, feeling your pain and wishing there was something we could do to erase it.

Thinking of you and your family. God bless.

Anonymous said...

I have also been lurking. I can't make what is in my heart come out thru my fingers-been having trouble with that lately. I am also feeling your pain and wish there was something I could do to lessen it.
Hugs

Massachusetts Gal

The Stevens Family said...

You are most definitely not selfish. You are honest. Keep letting your feelings out maybe it will lessen the pain. If you don't want to be honest because of who reads make your blog private and if they get offended so what. I would not be offended if I was blocked.

I wish I could take your pain away if only for a small amount of time.

Sharpie said...

Not. Selfish. NOT. Hurt. Sad. And in need of being taken care of. All normal, natural needs for all of us. We love you. Now come here, and I'll hug you tight.

Shelly said...

Not selfish at all. Those are all things that I rely on my husband for. I can imagine that they are things I would be devastated about if he were gone. Again, my thoughts are with you, Laura, and I wish I could more to help you.

Marshamlow said...

I wonder if you were to go and have a spa day or something just for you once in awhile if that might give you a little bit of a break from the constant pain.

It is a shame that we carry with us the scars from our childhood our entire lives. We always tend to see ourselves as we were for those few short years of our youth, instead of who we are as adults.

rachd said...

No selfishness there, just pain. Lots and lots of pain. Hang in there, honey. We are all here for you and love you.

HUGS!!

Artemisia said...

You are not selfish. You are brave enough to love completely.

I am thinking of you.

haylee said...

Some say that children are like a slate on which we write their future. How tragic that such awful things were writen on his slate by the people entrusted with his nurturing. :(

I guess if we are told something often enough, we start to believe it.

Leonard, from all accounts, was far from stupid.

I even dislike that word.

Nance said...

I'm sure you know you're not really selfish. You're lonely for your husband in very real ways.

You miss him. You grieve for him. And you have anger.

Which of us wouldn't?

Donna said...

Sweetie, you're just feeling the need...it's alright...we're all here, with you and for you...hughug

The girl left behind said...

I know every little thing in your life is different now. I know. But of this one thing, and one thing only I am sure: You two still love each other. Love goes on.

It ain't much to go on when you're falling apart, I realize. But it got me through many a hard night. He still loves you that way. Hugs to you.

BetteJo said...

I found your blog a couple of weeks ago and stayed up incredibly late for 2 nights in a row reading from beginning to end.

It has always been my belief that in order to heal from pain in a healthy way - you have to allow yourself to feel it. I've cried reading this, you've touched me so, and I just wanted to say that I am glad you have this place to want, rage, and weep.

The emotions you describe are frightening to me because they are the stuff of nightmares, what I imagine I would feel if I experienced such a loss.

I sincerely hope that little by little you can see more light than dark and feel more hope than despair.

Selfish? No, not in the least. Just reading your words makes me want to bring Leonard back for you. If a stranger can feel that - of course YOU do!

Take care~

Shari said...

I wanted to add that I totally understand Leonard's emotional scars from his childhood-the insecurity, the self-worth and self-confidence...I was always criticized (or felt criticized). I always need reassurance that I'm doing something right.

I think it's better to feel the pain rather than bottling it up. You had someone to share your life with-all petty differences aside (i.e., if payments made on time, parenting skills)-you loved him for what he was. Hang in there, Laura. Baby steps.

maryanne said...

hi.. I've been lurking here for awhile.. and just wanted to say how sorry i am for all you're going thru. ((((hugs))))