The Way Things Used to Be

Dearest Rachel –

What with Logan out of town for the weekend, I don’t find myself needing to sequester myself in the bedroom; the boys aren’t hanging out together in the family room in the evening. It almost feels like the way things used to be, with me and him hanging out in the family room, watching stuff together. Sure, we’d just gotten back from a nice meal at the folks’ which wasn’t the regular thing it is now that you’re no longer here. But otherwise, it felt somewhat familiar and nostalgic; even more so when mention would be made of something would have appealed especially to you, such as horror movies (we have just come out of the spooky season, after all) or 1940’s music (which you grew up with, as it was the music of your folks’ childhood and adolescence). When things like that would be brought up, I still had the impulse to turn to my right, to see your reaction as you sat watching on the couch.

In vain, of course, since you weren’t there; but you know, old habits die hard.

Old habits such as falling asleep in the recliner while watching one of the gamers we’ve gotten into since you left (I mean, he’s been around, doing stuff since maybe 2017 or 2018, but he’s really come into his own since your departure). In fairness, it was something of a compilation episode – a collection of previous stuff in a single, long episode – so it was just the sort of thing that could be switched on and left running in the background, which I essentially let happen as I leaned back in the recliner and let nature take its course. You would remember a scene like this from all too many nights in the past; these days, they aren’t nearly so common.

It probably shouldn’t come as any great surprise that I feel asleep deep enough to actually be able to dream, but not so much that the outside world didn’t have a bearing on those dreams. With me asleep, Daniel switched over to certain commentary channels he follows but doesn’t generally impose on me; I can listen to them – and even find myself amused by them, from time to time, depending on the subject – but I wouldn’t watch them myself on my own volition. I could sort of hear the guy going on about one thing or another, which almost gave me the impression that I wasn’t as asleep as I was…

…until he got to where he would usually schpiel for whatever sponsor was backing this particular episode. Normally, he’s hawking one thing or another, or even some of his own products – this particular commentator apparently has his own line of coffees – but I was hearing him advertising a combined collection of of old Christmas music – stuff dating from the ’60s and ’70s, which maybe makes them not as old as all that – and specialty alcohols, of all things. And, for whatever reason, we must have actually bought them, because I was tasting them in my dream. Talk about instant gratification – how often can you order something from an online vendor, and have it in your hands moments later? Only in one’s dreams does that sort of thing happen.

Anyway, I think I was sipping on a particularly sharp peppermint schnapps when I woke up. Although, given what my breath tasted like as I woke up, I could have probably used something suitably minty like that. Considering that you and I used to give each other grief over falling asleep like this in the family room, you would have probably been most amused by the scene (although, in fairness, you wouldn’t have had a clue about why I was so particularly perturbed about my breath in that moment, not having been privy to my dream). Since I usually made a point of going to bed whenever I sensed lassitude overtaking me (unlike yourself), you probably would have given me the needle about my hypocrisy, in any event – and I can’t deny that I wouldn’t have deserved it.

Thankfully, Daniel isn’t the sort to do that – or maybe he feels that, as the child, it’s not his place to tease me about that like you might have done (and certainly been able to). Either that, or it was just too late at night – all but midnight, in fact, by the time I woke up – for him to gather enough of his own wits about himself to direct them at me. Regardless of the reason, I should probably be grateful to him for that.

As it was, it was all I could do to hug him goodnight, and stagger off to bed. Again, it was a scene you would have recognized from nearly any ordinary evening after a hard day at the office – apart from the fact that I no longer have days like that, and you’re no longer there to keep me sane after such. Really, it’s a shame that, now that I no longer have to deal with hard days like that, you don’t get the benefit of no longer having to be the pillar of support you used to be for me. All I can do is tell you what the days are like since then, and wonder if you miss being a part of it all – which, from what little I understand of heaven, you probably don’t. And don’t worry, I don’t take any offense to that; it’s just that it would have been nice for you to enjoy the fact that the days are so much easier these days (apart from your not being here, of course). Like I said, it’s nothing special, but it’s what I have to tell you about.

Anyway, take care of yourself, honey; keep an eye on me, and wish me luck. I’m going to need it.