Prompt # 46

The two o'clock wake up. Startled and alone. I'm sleeping alone. It's a strange feeling on this night in particular but a familiar alone. I'm tired and also uneasy and would love the comfort of another, even if she is asleep. This pillow and sleeping bag is not quite enough cover for me in this moment. But I do most of my hard moments alone. It's unusual for it to be other. I got lucky tonight. Earlier when one trigger too many hit a memory button of one of those old memories I've always had but have kept locked up tight in that old rusted out metal box that is thin in places, burned through from the acid of those moments I've caught and locked away. She was my touch point last night. She understands the crazy feeling in my head. She reminds me that it's just how it is and that I'm too tired. My resistance is low from lack of sleep and exhaustion. And yet I have the two o'clock wake up. The wide awake. The uneasy that is so strong I can't go back to sleep even though my body is screaming for it.

Maybe I am afraid of what I will dream next. Maybe it's the memory of the coffin, with that spray of flowers on it and the roses we placed on top. I kissed mine first and didn't feel a bit foolish. I watched them lower it into the ground and I wish I hadn't. I don't like thinking of her there, even though I know that is not her home, just a place for a body to break down. Still. It's a powerful image and I'd like to wipe that memory of the drive. I want to remember her stroking my hair at the hospital with her small strong hands. I'd rather remember her taking her last breath and being peaceful, at last. 

My funeral experiences bears out my stance on them. They are horrible. I don't like them at all.

Now I am restless even in my tired. I already walked the house, even the room I avoid, the room she died in. The dog is really tired and a sound sleeper or I'd curl up with him. I still might.