Thoughts on an early Monday Morning when I can't sleep.

The human body is an amazing thing.  It'll let you know how you're feeling moment to moment, without any concentrated thought or personal input.  It just operates on auto pilot.  Like breathing or sneezing or needing to pee or feeling hunger, it just happens without our consent. Tonight, I'm having non-consensual insomnia...and I have to say, I'm not down with it. Insomnia is a vile little beast. Your body and brain will both say "Hey, I'm tired. Let's get some sleep so I can process and regenerate from the day/week/month/year."  Everything seems like it's right on line to happen.  You shower, put on your comfiest sleep wear (or go commando, whatever feels good, do it) and hunker down for a little slumber, perchance to dream of something other than reality and just as you're drifting off, just as the calm has settled over you, it's as if someone takes a cattle prod and shoves it up your ass and then shocks you into not only a completely awoken state but maybe even lace it with a little anxiety, or if we're really unlucky, some good old fashioned panicking for no reason for no discernible reason. There are an over abundance of things that weigh on my mind lately.  Most of them centering around the early morning hours of September 29, 2018, when I lost the only man that ever truly loved me, as well as like me.  The only man I ever relinquished any decision making to and trusted implicitly. The only man that made me feel safe and made me laugh and made me happy to wake up every day next to him. The only man that was ever a father to my daughter...our daughter...he adopted her right after we got married after dating for 6 years. For the past 24 weeks I replay the night my husband Dave died right in front of me, right in front of our bed, after we completed the most intimate act a married couple can together, at the age of 46.. My last words to him were  "Baby, that was fucking awesome!" and then I watched him collapse, like someone had shot him in the head.  I leapt from the bed, breaking my foot in the process and struggled to get him onto his back so I could perform CPR on him, just assuming he was having a heart attack.  I realize now that he didn't suffer a heart attack, but something much more sinister and almost always fatal, which was sudden cardiac death. His heart simply quit pumping. I've replayed this scene every single night since September 29.  Could I have done more?  Could it have been prevented?  Did he feel something wasn't right? Did he know something had happened? Did he hear my last words to him before he fell backwards? Did he hear my words as I did CPR and did he hear our daughter call him "dad", out loud,  for the first and last time? Did he hear us praying and pleading with God to not take him, to please let him live? Did he know what was going on? Or was it really like a light switch being flipped off?  Or like a mosquito that has landed on my arm and is slapped out of existence? Did he feel pain? Did he see what was going on? Did he know how sorry I was for every shitty mood I was ever in and every shitty thing I ever said when I was upset over things that didn't even concern him? Did he know how much I truly, honestly and with all that I was, love him? Did he know how grateful I was to have him in our lives? Did he know that he was responsible for fixing me when I was broken when we first met? Did he know how much our daughter truly loved and appreciated him? Did he know how much of an impact his death would have? Did he have a choice? And my biggest worry...was he scared? Was he scared and was he aware and did he know the minute his soul separated from his body? Were his parents there to greet him? Was my mom? His grandparents? My loved ones? Were they all there welcoming him or do we really just cease to exist and that's it? This is the shit that goes through my mind every single night.  Even on two temazepam, I don't feel sleepy. I use an app called "CALM" and it helps somewhat. Also an app called "Mellow Me". I realize my coping mechanisms are probably pretty bizarre.  I ordered one of those large "U" shaped pillows and put it under the covers of his side of the bed, sort of where his legs would be, and I have a pillowcase with his face on it, it sits above the "legs". When I am trying to sleep, I hug the pillow and talk to his smiling face (He was always smiling) and wrap my legs amongst the "Legs" of the pillow.  Just like we used to really do when we were going to bed. Sometimes I even rock myself back and forth like he used to and try and listen really hard to hear the words he would always tell me while we were going to sleep.  "I love you." to which I'd reply "I love most!" and he would say, "No, I do. I love most. I win. I da winner!" and sometimes I'd let him win and sometimes I'd argue that I was the winner winner chicken dinner and it was in fact I that had ever said "I love you" first so it only stood to reason I was the one who really loved "the most". Of course now that I think back on it, we may have been tied in this mutual admiration society we called our love. We were perfect for each other.  I didn't even know people like him existed for people like me.  Believe me, I know my faults and it would take a miracle for a single person to put up with all my bullshit and eccentricities I have. He was a saint to put up with me and not only me, but our daughter. We were two hormone raging females subjecting him to our mood fluctuations and estrogen fueled mini dramas almost every day and the only thing he had to say about it was, "I love my girls.  Only the best for MY girls." And then he would do anything we wanted, anything we asked of him...and oh so much that we didn't ask of him but that he did out of the kindness of his heart. I miss his kindness and generosity and laid back attitude. I miss his voice and speaking with him and laughing with him.  I miss his touch and his kiss and his very presence in our bed, our room, our home. There isn't a thing I don't  miss about him.  Even his most annoying little habits or quirks, I'd give my eye teeth for. So this is what I deal with every damn time I go to sleep. And believe me, it takes a lot to get me to sleep. Once I do, I don't dream.  In the past 24 weeks I have dreamed of Dave twice that I remember and both times they were awful dreams with him telling me he didn't love me anymore and he was leaving me. I wake up crying from those dreams.  I wake up hurt and angry and it ruins my day. I'm glad I don't dream about him right now because I don't know if I'd be able to handle night after night of him telling me in dreams he doesn't love me. Of course, I know he did love me. And I know deep down he knew I loved him. I just miss him so much that it's hard to get back to a place of what could be considered "Normal".  I don't think I'll ever know "Normal" again. I'm not sure I've ever known what "normal" is, but I think that as far as relationships go, we had as normal and loving of a relationship that you could have. We never went to bed mad, we never failed to say "I love You" several times a day.  We never failed to appreciate one another or say thank you to each other for everything. From something as simple as getting each other a drink of water to something major like getting us new floors or booking a vacation. We did things for each other not only because some things needed to be done, but because we loved doing kind things for one another. I had it so good.  I had it more than good, I had it fucking great. I know that doesn't come along very often, so I know it's not likely to happen again. That keeps me awake at night.  Knowing I'll most likely never feel that kind of safety, love and understanding ever again. I was lucky though. I got it for 9.5  years when all was said and done.  I was married to him the moment we first became exclusive. I was married to him when he moved in six months after dating. I was married to him in my heart the entire time I knew him and for real for a short almost three year period before he passed on to the next realm. I hope he's watching over us. I hope he knows how big this bed is without him in it. I hope he knows he was the real true love I waited my whole life for and that I loved him then, now and forever. He will always be my husband. I miss you Dave. This is what I think every night when I go to bed and what leaves me sleepless in the swamp. I will forever be your Moonbeam.