Hiding from the Night

It's now 11:42 and I am still up . . . wide awake as a child on Christmas Eve or the night before the first day of school.  Lately, I have not been able to sleep.  I have always been nocturnal, so this comes as no surprise, but while I love the solitude of night, I think I am hiding from it.  It is that time . . . that middle-of-the-night silence that scares me the most because I am alone with my thoughts, which ultimately drift to the loss of my mother, my adult girls' future, my grandson's life, and my husband and his retirement at 56.  Too much thinking for a time when you should be shutting down.  The coolness of the pillow should provide respite and sanctuary from the intrusion and chaos of life. But sleep has been elusive, like that winning lottery ticket that I never seem to be able to find or the numbers I want to see on the scale when I step on.  But I digress  . . . which follows suit with my train of thought at night . . . wandering wherever it pleases.  Sometimes it visits pleasant places and I feel comforted, but mostly it has been seeking out dark and scary places that I try to repress.

This blog, however, has become a safe haven of sorts.  It helps me make sense of my random thoughts. . . I wonder if I'm even normal sometimes.  Will I ever feel like myself again now that my mom is gone?  She was my very best friend, and when I think of a world without her . . . oh no . . . push it down.  I still have to go to her house and sift through her belongings.  It all seems so senseless that we collect all this stuff and then we leave this world, and it stays right here for someone else to make sense of.  Obviously I will never have the same appreciation for some of her things and some things I will downright laugh at, but I know there are some things that will make her life tangible for me . . . her books, her jewelry, her teapots, her Beanie Babies.

I will do this with a heavy heart, but I am hoping to find smile and laugh a little when I do.  Maybe it will be therapeutic and the nights will no longer plague me.