I jerked up from an unplanned nap, groggy and confused. A strange noise had disturbed my sleep. I strain to listen but hear only the normal sounds of a Saturday morning. Children’s laughter, chatter and some squabbles. Bees busy in the flowers, the soft rustle of leaves moved by a light breeze and the drone of an airplane as it made the approach to land.
Shaking my head to clear it, I decide the noise must have been a dream. The sounds of my wife Katherine, busy with her current project are not here. Maybe that’s what woke me up. The lack of Katherine’s presence. I wonder, will I ever hear those sounds again.
The pain of loss washes over me as I fight falling into a black funk. I think of the thirty years of marriage to Katherine and now maybe a future without her. I don’t understand what brought us to this separation. How do I continue when my wife no longer wants me in the same house with her? She tells me the love is still there but she can no longer live with the daily pain we cause each other. We need time apart, she said. Katherine doesn’t give me any choice and I try to figure out how it all went wrong.
Startled, I hear the noise again. No, not a dream. I try to determine what it is and where it is has come from. Fully awake now and clear-headed, I look around the room. I have only been here a week and this is my first full day. As far as I know this is a normal daytime sound. It niggles at the edge of my memory. I should know what it is but recognition eludes me. Oh well, maybe it will come to me later. Right now I need to bring some kind of order to my new home.
Instead of getting up, fatigue sends me into another unplanned nap. Seems like all I have to do is sit in my lounger and I wake up an hour later, surprised that sleep claimed me again. It is never restful and if I didn’t know better, I’d think I had a hangover from carousing till the wee hours of the morning. Thankfully those days are long gone.
My thoughts go back to the early days and years with Katherine. I long for what we had and seem to have lost. Katherine has a dignity and graciousness that doesn’t allow her to be a Kathy, Kate or any other shortened version of her name.
Almost as tall as me, she has always had a perfect figure. Long, thick lashes frame bedroom eyes that are a beautiful dark brown and speak of her love for me. At least they used to, now I mostly see pain and loss there. Katherine has always fulfilled my every fantasy. She is in my mind all day at work and I can hardly wait to get home. Our love for each other was complete and we knew it would last forever.
Through the years, Katherine has only become lovelier. She still has that perfect figure that men enjoy watching. I am always being teased about how I managed to snare someone like Katherine and I am proud that she is mine. That at least has not changed. She will always be one sexy lady and send my senses into orbit. I smile and feel smug when other men show an interest in my wife. After all, she did choose me. Would she do so today? With all the damage done to her, I fear to go there.
Glancing out the window, I see it is mid-morning. Katherine will be at work in her garden. A bandana will be twisted into a rope, tied around her head to keep the sweat and hair out of her eyes. Only a moderately successful gardener, she never gives up trying to have a picture perfect yard that fills the senses with delight year ‘round.
I wonder if Katherine has given up on us? She says we need space; we are both being too hurtful. I am desolate at the thought that this separation might be forever and I might never hold her again. How will I survive with no more kisses or passionate lovemaking? I can hardly bear the pain of aloneness when I realize I can’t touch Katherine. No more holding hands or putting my arm around her shoulder. No more snuggles on the sofa. I don’t want a single life; I want to be with my wife.
When and why have I become so critical of everything? Katherine, the kids, the house, and life in general come under the lash of my discontent. Then Katherine started to fight back and I have a perverse pleasure at causing her pain. Why should I be the only one hurting? It is a way to excuse my escalating nastiness.
Our two children are grown now and no longer at home. I am thankful they do not openly take sides. I know I have hurt them as well and will not blame them if they ignore me. They are careful to divide time spent with us so they don’t show favorites.
Needing food, I head to the kitchen and a lonely meal. A bowl of soup will have to do for now. I notice the tarnished copper bottom on the pan because Katherine is fussy about keeping the shine bright. Another thing I miss is the wonderful meals she prepares. She not only loves to cook, she is creative and good. Just another reminder of my loss.
A part of my mind listens for the strange noise but I don’t hear it again. The radio I keep turned on plays one of our special songs. I choke up with the memory of us dancing to this music. Our bodies fit and over the years we develop our own style of dance. I wonder if Katherine has the same problem with her memories. I hope so. That would mean she is as miserable with this separation as I am.
I have worked myself into a full-blown case of self-pity when Katherine arrives with cookies she has baked. One look at me and she accurately assesses my frame of mind and refuses to stay. Can’t say I blame her, I’d leave me too if I could.
I begin to think Katherine is right. We do need time apart to evaluate how to salvage thirty years of love. I only hope we can find our way back to each other. In my heart I have to believe there is still a future for us. I need to think Katherine feels the same.