Not Yet

I'm not sure it has fully hit me yet that Capt's gone. I keep comparing This Time with Last Time. (good grief...how I hate that. "Last Time" and "This Time", what a STUPID thing to live with.) Last Time it took a while. Himself traveled with  work so for a couple of months it just felt like he was on a business trip, and I got all the pillows and the middle of the bed for a bit. As I was waking up this morning, in the middle of the bed with all the pillows, I remembered that and realized that's what I was feeling again. Capt didn't travel with his work, unless I went with him, but that's it...I had a subconscious expectation that he's drive up in a couple of days with a suitcase full of laundry and a couple of new stories. That expectation is sort of what's kept me cheerful(ish). That and cold medicine. It simply hasn't sunk in. 

The week Capt was in the hospital, especially the middle of it, I think I KNEW he wasn't coming home. Not this home anyway. The ICU would shoo me out at 9 pm, with promises to call if Something Happened. I'd come home and try to sleep but mostly ugly-cried. Not the dainty tear-spillage sniffling of someone sad for someone else, but angry sobbing and wailing, begging God to heal Capt, I would think about how much I'd miss him, how UNFAIR IT IS...that I only had 5 years with him, how UNFAIR IT IS...that he will get to go to Heaven SOON, and here I am...again...Poor Poor Pitiful Me. 

But I'm still kind of expecting him to walk into the room. I'm expecting a request for tempura shrimp, a complaint about The Government, an appeal to get some pants hemmed. He's going to ask when was the last time I'd talked to one of my kids, if I have enough coffee to last the week or do we need to make a run to Sam's. 

Gosh it's quiet here. 

And YES. I KNOW GOD IS WITH ME. Right here, in the room, all the time. I know that. I guess that's supposed to be sufficient and I kind of feel like I'm ungrateful or something because I am  feeling lonely. But, those aren't God's boots next to the front door. That's not God's watch and tape measure on the table next to God's spot on the love seat. That's not God's pair of boxers on the floor next to the laundry basket or God's bar of Safeguard in the shower. It's. Not. The. Same. And if that makes me an inadequate Christian then I am an inadequate Christian. So sue me. I'm angry and I'm lonely and I miss my man and I know he's In A Better Place and all those other phrases meant to be comforting but just sound like platitudes people use when they can't think of anything better to say. 

I'm mad at Capt for leaving. I'm mad at Himself for leaving (though in 7-1/2 years I've been able to deal with it, mostly). Sometimes I'm mad at God for doing this to me. Occasionally I'm mad at myself for being mad at all them. (I deal with adversity by getting mad, apparently). 

Because God is who He is, and works in interesting ways, every single devotional I've done in the last week has been Spot On. Like...Well, Ok then, God...why am I surprised?  This one, I want to write up and frame so I can see it every single day. 

“Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be frightened, and do not be dismayed, for the LORD your God is with you wherever you go.” Joshua 1:9 

I'm trying. Really.

I need to be told that, frequently and often. Because on my own I am NOT strong and courageous. I am tired and weak, I buy bananas and eat Oreos instead. I wear pajamas all day. I sit here and wait for Capt to come through the door with stories about SCUBA students who didn't realize they needed to know how to swim to take the class (really, it's happened). I forget to cut okra until they're the size of baseball bats and about as tough. I. Am. Not. Strong. Not on my own, anyway. Even with God next to me, with me wherever I go, I am running on coffee, prayers, and Oreos* For now. 

It will, eventually, sink in. I will, eventually, recognize that No, Capt isn't coming through the door. He won't be requesting tempura shrimp, telling a story, or complaining about the Government.  My life has just radically changed. Again. And I'll be ok. Until then, it's pajamas, coffee, and Oreos. For a little while. After all, if someone doesn't cut the okra it's going to grow teeth and eyes, and stare through the back windows. 

*Not really. I have some good chicken soup too.