I hate being sick. I realize that no one likes it, but I am a really bad sick person. I don’t get really sick very often (which is probably a good thing!) so when I do get sick, I’m really miserable. And it’s worse when there’s no one to take care of me.
Today I suffered from a migraine. Because they are a rare occurrence I have never seen a doctor for them, which means no medication. The only cure I have found to be very effective is sleep on a flat surface in a dark room. I couldn’t do that today. I didn’t go to work, but I did have to get up to let the dog out and let work know that I wasn’t coming in. The walk from my bedroom to the door seemed like miles – it was all I could do to stay upright and not vomit. Every step was sheer torture.
I miss the days when Chad would take care of things for me. If I was sick, he let my boss know I wasn’t coming in. When I had a long day at work, he would fix supper so I didn’t have to. He would take care of the dog on Saturday mornings so I could sleep late. All of those little things seem insignificant, but reminded me that he loved me. I took them for granted, thinking that I had 40 or 50 years to appreciate them. I never realized how much I would miss them.
And I do miss them, along with a myriad of other small gestures and moments. Moments that make up the bulk of my memories.