Disney Got It Wrong

Chapter 15

The Saturday morning of the end of the year carnival, I woke up with a heavy feeling settled in my chest. I'd spent a restless night tossing and turning, dreaming of things I couldn't remember but had left me feeling unsettled and disquieted. I rolled over onto my back to see that the little bit of light filtering through the black out curtains on my windows was still grey. It was so early, and I felt so deeply exhausted, but no matter how I lay, no matter how much I kicked at the blanket and sheets, no matter how I arranged the pillows, I couldn't will myself to go back to sleep. But I still lay in bed for a long time listening to the quiet creaks and groans of an empty house, feeling that weight settling deeper the longer I lay there.

Alone. That was the word that rang in my mind. Loneliness was the feeling that was creeping through me, making my body feel heavy and making my heart ache.

Before Breslin, Wesley and I spent our weekend mornings in bed. We slept in and made breakfast for lunch and spent most Saturday mornings entirely in our pajamas. When I was pregnant with Breslin, Wesley fell into a routine of letting me have the bed on Saturday mornings while he tiptoed around and made breakfast or went to pick up whatever food I was currently fixated on.

When he was gone overseas was when Saturday and Sunday morning snuggles became a thing. It was partly because Breslin woke with the sun and I needed a little while longer in bed and partly because it was hard for me to be alone even then. Wesley being away was the first time I realized any kind of codependency, and Breslin had kept me sane through most of it. She became my little best friend in those long months. And when Wesley went for his second tour, I think Breslin and I may have helped each other through missing him. A few months after he died was when the Evanses had started asking for Breslin for a weekend here and there, and the year after he died was when they started the yearly trip to remember him and had always taken Breslin with them.

While the weekends alone had been hard, those two weeks in June were always the hardest. And though they had always invited me to come, I had always chosen to remember Wesley in my own way. It made it harder to be around his family and sit in on the conversations about things he'd done and loved. All those memories were theirs of him. My memories of him were mine, and they were ones I would share with Breslin one day so she could better understand the kind of father he was and how much he loved her.

Both kids were currently gone. It was my mom's yearly tradition for them to spend a few days with her as their reward for all the hard work and a means to celebrate the end of the school year. She had picked them up from school on their last day, making that morning day three of the fun, and had likely already spoiled them rotten. I missed them when they were gone, but I knew I would see them for a little while at the carnival in a few hours where my mom would load them up on junk food and spend too much money for them to play the games.

They deserved every bit of fun to be had, but when they were gone, there was nothing to fill the long hours, nothing to take my focus off the emptiness and the silence that rang in my ears. There were no morning snuggles to make my bed feel a little less empty, no one chanting for breakfast to make me feel needed, no messes to clean up to keep me busy. And in a couple more weeks, they would be spending those two weeks with Wesley's parents like they did every summer, and I would be spending those weeks battling old heartaches as I replayed the days exactly as they had happened right up until the moment that doorbell rang with the news of what had happened to Wesley.

I forced myself to move, to get out of bed and put my feet on the floor. I picked up my phone to check the time and decided that I needed a dose of endorphins. After stripping my bed and putting the sheets in the washer, I made my bed with a fresh set, hoping clean tight sheets would help me sleep better. I sprayed everything down with the lavender and melatonin linen spray I kept on my night stand, and then I changed into some gym clothes and packed my gym bag. Google insisted that physical activity was one of the best ways to combat depressive episodes. So, by six fifteen I was headed out the door with a coffee in my hands and a determination to make it a good day.