Diary of a Widower

Daily entries by a husband, who stayed behind with his two sons

Tomorrow never dies

FRIDAY, January 8 – I was still dreaming when I got up at 5:48. In the final scene I went downstairs, where the whole family was strolling around. Jenn had just put on her coat and we were about to say goodbye to her. Mom was finally going to go on that week-long meditation retreat she’d been contemplating for so long.

Until I woke up, that is, initially still in a cheerful mood. It disappeared within a second and a half, when I realized that I had experienced all that in my sleep and that Jennifer had left for a retreat that would last forever. I felt an icy shiver run through my body. I went for a shit and then headed back to bed.

When the alarm went off at 6:15, I didn’t feel like getting out of bed. I stared at the ceiling until 6:45, when I had to answer the call of duty. Children, dog, breakfast, lunch, school, and then what?  I stayed home, didn’t feel like working, dilly-dallied with odd jobs. Found a morsel of satisfaction in the most minimal chores. Tomorrow’s another day.

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