The title of this post was taken from the song Die With Me by Type O Negative. This post was written on Saturday, but I wasn't up for posting it until now.
It's quite. I hear Mel, our guinea pig, walking around her cage. I hear the whrrrr of the fan in my room. I hear the traffic from our street, and the dogs that bark as the cars pass. I hear the tap tap tap as my fingers fly across the keyboard. I don't hear the kids. I just kissed their little heads and sent them with Mike's mom, Barbara, for the day. They are headed to the zoo. Even though they are not here the sound of their laughter, as they walked out the door, remains thick in the air. It's the sounds that I haven't heard for four months that kill me. Mike's last words to me were I love you, and his snoring was the last sound I heard him make as I left for work that Thursday morning. What would I give to hear him tell me he loved me just one more time? I miss telling him he was a liar when he said I was beautiful. I miss hearing him wake up and walk around upstairs as he got ready for the day. He was usually quiet. He kind of walked on his toes, and he liked to avoid the parts of the floor that he knew would squeak if he stepped on them. Until a month ago I had kept up with what would have been his work schedule. I've lost track, and if he were here I'm not sure what shift he would be on anymore. Would he have been at work right now, or sleeping before a night of 11-7, or waking up and working around the house before a shift of 3-11? As Barbara left today she said, "I just want to see you happy again." I do have those moments. I find myself able to laugh at little things, and smile at something funny. I'm not always depressed and sad, but those days still outweigh my smiley moments.