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Monday, January 26, 2009

missing him.

          I sometimes lay awake in bed, wishing for sleep but finding none. My mind wanders relentlessly, almost always ending up in the same place: Drew.


          I have always had the ability to go to other places inside my head. I remember taking long car trips with my family as a little girl and just losing myself to my thoughts, content in the overtones of boring, adult conversation or even silence because my mind was anything but. I remember specifically hearing my parents and brothers speaking of the Big Bear; my eyes would grow wide in wonder as I pondered the bear that was somewhere in the great and dark outside, instantly feeling a thrill of fear overcome by a flush of warmth as I knew I was safe with my family.  

       It wasn't until later that I realized they were talking about a constellation, that bears weren't really around in Landenberg, PA.  It was disappointing, but probably safer that way. 

       Anyway, I have always felt accompanied by my mind--especially when I cannot sleep because of all these loud thoughts keeping me awake, talking to me. And no, I am not crazy. But right now, I am a woman missing her husband like crazy.

      I don't know how you two do it! I know me and my husband could never live that way...This has been said to me on more than one occasion by a well-meaning person. I understand that sentiment, I really do. But sometimes I feel a little less understanding and a little more defensive. 
   
    Of my marriage. Of whether or not I am being a good wife. 

    It's not like we chose for me to go on tour because it's not very hard for us to live apart. It's not like I thought, Luckily, I don't love Drew all that much so this decision is really a no-brainer...   

    No, this decision is one that God led us to, true; it's one in which we both have peace, yes--but sometimes it really sucks. I know that can be a crude thing to say, but it is true. Especially when I am laying awake at night with a heart full of so many both heartfelt and insignificant things to say to Drew; I want to tell him that we had an around-the-world-party tonight and I, along with a few friends, represented the United Kingdom; I spoke in a loud british accent--my volume making up for whatever might be lacking in authenticity--we served tea sandwiches, guinness, and I made cupcakes that I decorated by crafting union jacks on each one and let me tell you, that's not easy!  I want to tell him that I tried to pretend that I could stomach this drink that was served to me in the Brazil room because my friend made it and was clearly proud of it, but the truth is that it tasted like lava from an active volcano going down my throat and I swirled it around and held it until I found a nearby and inconspicuous ledge to leave it on and quickly walked away. I want to tell him that I had a hard time keeping my eyes open tonight in the show during What I Did For Love and felt like a real poser on stage blinking furiously, just trying to keep my vital signs strong so the audience would never suspect the truth. I want to tell him that I miss him, and I feel that more than almost any other emotion, I think--it is a defining emotion of my very existence...And sure, I could say all these things tomorrow when the sun is once again shining and he is on the other end of a phone conversation, but I might not remember it so poignantly or one of us might have only a moment to talk and then be called away and let's face it, no matter how much I tell him of terrible drinks, almost falling asleep on stage, and cupcake decorating, it's never as good as him being here.

     It's never as good as him actually experiencing it with me.  

     I want to tell him that I hold on to the thought of he and I experiencing life together again with all the strength of a drowning woman holding onto her one lifeline. I want to tell him that I am fine, true, but always, always much better with him. 

    And I want to tell him that if this wasn't our life, I would also innocently tell a couple who couldn't, at present, live together:

     I don't know how you two do it! I know that me and my husband could never live that way...

10 comments:

Mary F said...

Jess I know exactly what you are feeling. It is the same way when Joe is on the road. For me when I tell someone Joe is a truck driver they say the same thing to me with the sound of pity in their voice. But I just smile and tell them "right now this is where the Lord has us and has given us His grace to do it" You and Drew are always in our prayers.

kathiek said...

I feel the same way when John is away traveling, which he often has to do. I was recently asked, "What is your favorite way to pass the time of day?", and I wrote, "Doing anything with John." Hang in there, Jess. People who love you are praying.

Mom said...

For some reason, Jess, it feels harder right now to have you away....and not just for myself; I'm sad for you and Drew. But I also know that God's way isn't always easy, He just promises to be with us. Love you a lot!!! Wish you were here; wish I was there.

Emily said...

It is so rough not to be able to connect in that simple, this-is how-my-day-was, kind of way! Missing your best friend, who is a part of you in a way that no one else could ever be, is so so sooooo hard... Dan and I may not be living apart, but it feels that way much of the time. he works two full time jobs, and his mind is full of his responsibilities, while his heart is with his family. we are lucky if he gets to sit down and have dinner with us. he comes in late, and i am usually asleep on the couch, and leaves again before 6 am, and we try to connect over a lunch phone call or something. It DOES suck!

Jessica Latshaw said...

thanks so much, guys-it does help to hear your stories, too. actually, your kindness and sympathy mean so much! here's to the grace that makes life not just possible, but even good;-)

Pop said...

Jess, we sure do feel for you in your ache for your other half. Sigh.

semi anonymous said...

My husband had to leave me and the kids for a year to work in one place while we lived in another, and it was the hardest time of our lives. We could have made additional sacrifices to be together, but we heard very clearly from god that being apart was the sacrifice we were supposed to make at that time; there was a higher purpose. It sucked. I heard over and over again, "We could NEVER do what you guys are doing...."

It was such salt in the wounds. And, like you, until we were forced to make the decision, we would have said it also. I think that god gives us the wisdom of solomon when we need it, but that doesn't make it any easier. Thank god for his love, on which we can ALWAYS rely.

merry said...

Sorry, I know that I am guilty of saying that I don't know how you do it. It wasn't a judgement it was more that I was in awe of your strength.

Jonathan Latshaw said...

Jess, I am guilty of thinking I know exactly how you do it - you are an unfeeling heartless cutthroat women who will do anything to advance your career.

Jessica Latshaw said...

Merry--oh my gosh, you don't have to apologize AT ALL! I know what you mean--sometimes I don't even know how we do it! Seriously. Saying that is completely normal and totally understandable;-)

Jonathan--you really do know me, don't you?!?!