It happens at the strangest times.   Well, I guess strange isn’t the right word.   I guess maybe random is a better word.   The Husband has been gone for a month now; One down a few more to go.

Over the last few weeks, the girls and I have gotten into a decent rhythm.  We are learning what to expect from one another and how far we can push each other before we all become very miserable.

I really have gone into a survival-type mode. More days than not I feel like I am doing what I can just to make it to bedtime.   I don’t dwell too much during the day on the fact that the Husband is gone.   If I start thinking about it, then inevitably my mind wanders to how long it will be until he gets home.   And quite frankly, that is too depressing to think about.

So most days, we simply go about our business and do whatever it is we need to do.  Obviously we do think about him and talk about him throughout the day, but we don’t put a whole lot of emphasis on time.

Anyway this routine works for me.  If I don’t stop long enough to get sad, I won’t get sad.

Yesterday in church, I was sitting behind a couple.  They were probably in their late 40’s. (for those of you who read my Facebook updates, they were NOT the ones texting during  the sermon!)

At this particular time in the service, we were standing singing a song.   For whatever reason, I was watching them while I sang.   They both had their hands resting on the pew in front of them.   At one point the husband swayed with the music and his fingers brushed up against hers.   Over the next few seconds, I watched as their fingers all slowly became intertwined. Then as they held hands for the rest of the song, it all hit me.

As my eyes filled up with tears, I realized that there was nobody around to hold my hand.  Now normally I am not a big hand-holder.  After a few minutes, your hands get all sweaty and all the romance of the moment is gone.

I guess it’s the realization that there is nobody there to quietly brush up against.  There is nobody there to give you a hug when the kids are driving you bonkers.  There is nobody there to scratch your back when you have that one elusive itch.  There is just nobody there.

{Yes, I am turning into a big ole sap. Leave me alone, okay!}