Fear

In the previous post I noted many emotions.  I did not forget to list fear it simply had not reared its ugly head, that is, until last night.  

I had a great day, accomplished much.  I was busy until bedtime.  As we all have a bedtime routine, I set about mine.  I very much enjoy crawling into bed, under our cosy down quilt.  I have my pillow, Ron's pillow and I feel very comforted.  I have been sleeping very well throughout this whole ordeal.  

Ron and I cherished our bedroom space - not for the reasons you might be thinking.  Our little tiny boat cabin was our sanctuary from all that challenged us.  We were always warm and cozy, tranquil you might say.  It was here we would laugh, snuggle, hold on tight and be thankful for each other.  We had fun in our space.  Ron never knew whether it was a good thing  or not that I laughed so much in the bedroom.  We were happy - we were beyond happy.

You might go so far as to imagine that when I slip under the covers that I am being embraced by all that is loving.  It brings me a sense of solace.  It is where I can vividly imagine Ron's arms around me or mine around him.  I remember how would wiggle and snuggle into a tight fused like position feeling loved, safe, happy, content, trusted and respected.  There are often times that one would say to the other that we just cannot get close enough.  And we would wiggle a little  more just to see if we could get a bit closer.  Soon after we would drift into our own dream filled sleep.

Last night as I snuggled down I tried to hear Ron's voice, his chuckle and his out loud laugh.  Where these notions come from I cannot say.  They just pop into my head.  His voice did not come to me.  The more intense my focus with no results, the more anxious I became.  I was devoured by overwhelming fear that I would forget; forget Ron's voice, forget his laugh, forget his touch, forget, forget, forget.  

I found myself getting out of bed and heading to the computer.  Picture after picture his voice did not come.   

What kind of wife can I be?  Folder after folder of pictures, I came across old video clips.  It was there I found his voice, his sweet loving voice that I was desperate to hear.  It is all coming back: his laugh, his bad french accent he would use telling a joke.  I can hear him say, as if he were standing in front of me holding both my hand and looking me in the eye, "Have I told you today how much I love you?  Well, it's true, I do."