In the Still of the Night, The Monster Comes to Play
In the Stillness
I love the time of day when I can go upstairs and just be. For the day, I am done. I am done with school, cooking, cleaning, putting out fires, phone calls, texts, etc. My stuff, a bottle of water, and coke come up the stairs with me. I turn on all the fans, dim the lights, wash my face, and pile up in bed. Yet, In the Still of the Night, The Monster Comes to Play.
For a bit, I am good. I will scan all the things like email, Instagram, and such. Facebook is a thing of the past. I cannot stand the fakeness, passive-aggressive, political, crap that it is. A “friend” can be a friend to your face but behind your back, they are a glorified 12-year-old living in the land of middle school.
That shit is for the birds. I’m so much better than that.
Then, the stillness sets in.
My life is SO loud. I mean my son-in-law is LOUD. Everyone is loud. We have 21 chickens, 19 cats, a whiny dog, a granddaughter, and kids galore. It is always something. At night, though, other than the fans, it is silent.
That’s when the thoughts come in. These are not good thoughts. Normally, I watch the Detail Geek (car detailing guy from Canada) and talk to Donna. We talk through several of his details and giggle so much. Catch up on life, talk about our issues, and the issues of our children… all the things.
Since she passed away, in October last year, I have stopped watching him. I get so emotional when I do. Then, I go to pick up the phone and I realize she isn’t there. All of the unresolved trauma and grief floods me.
When Donna’s daughter died, I did not process her death for a year. Her death was so hard on me. I have loved LA from the moment I met her until the moment we buried her. Donna and I had always been close but our bond was unbreakable after LA died.
I remember the night that I called her. Crying. I was crying so hard that I couldn’t breathe. She could not understand me. Finally, she said for me to stop and tell her 2 things that make me laugh when I think of her.
- Hair dye
I stopped crying and replayed that story over and over in my head. The darkness began to have a bit of light and the monster retreated for a moment back from where it came. Donna is gone. Now, I have no one to tell that story too.
So again, the monster comes out to play in the stillness of the night. When I am alone with my own thoughts and the depression begins to overwhelm me.
Bats. Hair dye. Bats. Hair dye. Monsters go away because I do not want to play.