Without Tom G- Thursday January13th

Tom left today to visit his uncle in Santa Barbara. He’s still on winter break and it made perfect sense for him to take a solo trip to see his family. I was sure I could stay home by myself…until yesterday. I spend most of the day whining softly: “Don’t go, please, don’t go. Mew Mew.” But in the (tiny) normal part of my brain I knew it was a good idea and I was happy he was able to go.

This morning, Ramona and I dropped him off at the Blue Line and she whimpered as we drove away. I wanted to whimper too but her whimpering was so loud I felt like I couldn’t compete. She and I often wind each other up by trying to top the others anxiety, insecurity, sadness, or excitement. It’s a pretty good diversion actually, even though she usually wins.

Tom being gone presents many problems. First, and most obvious, is that my interest in human interaction slumps radically if you take him out of the equation. Secondly, unless I’m closely supervised I eat wall to wall pretzels. I’m talking about pretzel bagel and cream cheese for breakfast, turkey sandwich with pretzel bread for lunch, microwavable pretzels and nacho cheese for dinner, and chocolate covered pretzels for desert. It may seem like a nutritious meal plan, and it probably is for sumo wrestlers or Olympic Swimmers, but for 5’3″ women in their 30′s it’s not very practical. Without the all-pretzel diet, I don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to feed myself.

Another challenge is my passion for naps. I’m pretty sure I’m going to go home after work and try and take at least a 30 minute snooze. Again, that’s a good plan for kindergartners or people in the 20′s who suffered through a day of work with a hangover and get to reward themselves with a nap. But for regular people fighting depression and chronic insomnia…it’s a bad idea.

Finally, well, Tom’s sweet smile and spirit keeps me from crying all the time. I don’t know if I’ll have the strength not to indulge myself and just cry and cry until he comes home. I don’t know if I’ll be able to avoid the disturbing feeling that losing Tommy Jr was my fault, that I should have been better or smarter or healthier. I’m crying as I write this for god’s sake!!

The bad feelings are like roaches. Just when I think they’re gone, I’ll turn the lights on and catch them scattering out of the corner of my eye. But when my Light is on a trip to visit his Uncle, I’m afraid the thought-roaches will crawl into my bed and nest in my ears when I’m sleeping. Maybe I’ll nap with Kleenex wadded in my earholes.