Sleeping alone is
not new for me. Some years before John died, we began to occupy separate rooms.
I was actually hoist on my own petard. I was still working then, so it had to
be at least 10 years ago or more. Back then, I liked to go to bed at 10:00 pm
and have the TV on until I fell asleep. One evening Mr. Crankypants was crabby
about having to wait until I went to sleep to go to bed. So, I said, “Fine, I’ll
just sleep in the other bedroom.” And did.
Well, I waited for him to invite me
back to the marital bed, but he didn’t. When I broached the subject, he said he
slept much better without me because he could spread out. Translate that to he
still occupied his small section of the California king while the dog slept crossways
in the remainder of the bed.
As time went by, I would have
eventually moved anyway because John snored so loudly, and he began to get up every
night in the middle of the night to take his medication and be on the computer for
a couple of hours. Even across the hall in my own room, there were nights when
he and the dog(s) would wake me up as they got up or returned to bed.
Of course, our sex life didn’t end
with separate rooms. I would “visit” on occasion when the dog(s) were barred
and the bedding fresh. There was closeness then with the evening delight, but I’d
eventually allow the dog(s) back in and return to my own bed.
Now, I don’t recommend sleeping alone
if you have a spouse to sleep with. I sorely missed the snuggles, the late-night
talk, the feeling of closeness. In fact, I still miss all those things today.
While I might have tried to rectify sleeping alone before John’s death, I never
did and it saddens me to know there won’t ever be any more snuggles or closeness.
Looking back, I cherish those
mornings, afternoons and evenings when we shared the marital bed. I also
cherish the fact we had an amazing sexual relationship. Maybe I’ll write more
about that another time.