I've never been more homesick than now

I would be lying if I said the holidays were not tough on one who is missing a spouse. I find it doubly so (I believe) when the spouse's birthday is the same week as Christmas. This past week, whenever I let myself get beyond the present and dwell in the past or future, the waves would crush me. Just today I sat having lunch alone and found myself asking God to bless OUR food when it suddenly hit me that I should only be asking Him to bless MY food. Peanut butter sticks bad enough in the throat as it is. When it has to work its way past the knot and the sob it takes some effort to swallow. 

I chose to do some shopping for my nephew and nieces on my wife's side. I truly love those children and I am so happy that they continue to keep me as part of that family even without the blood ties. But shopping without my wife along was like breaking in a new pair of shoes.  I liked what I was doing but it just didn't feel comfortable. I found a lovely friend to walk along with me so the pain wasn't as great as it could've been. Which was good because, without a friend along, Angry Me would have gotten some serious bah humbug stares from my fellow Toys R Us shoppers. 

After dinner and a basketball game (watching of course, not playing, because I would have to ask Santa for Icy Hot if I had played) I found myself at home alone again. I did what I usually do when home alone and decided to be with my Facebook family. I saw a beautiful picture taken by a friend ( and very gifted writer) of a couple who had been married 47 years. The wife claimed that home was wherever her husband was. What a wonderful sentiment and I am truly happy for them. But that quote made me realize how Job-like my trials have been. I've lost a child. I've lost a spouse. And, tonight I realized, I am homeless. Not a sleep on the street in a cardboard box or in the woods under a makeshift tent with a tattered blanket shivering against the cold. No, I am homeless because those who made me feel at home are gone. 

I live in a nice house. I have plenty of creature comforts. I sit on a comfortable couch and type this using my iPad mini. A fire in the gas fireplace keeps the room warm. The air conditioning unit keeps the temperature throughout the house moderate. When I finish writing I'll take a nice warm shower and climb in a bed that I can adjust to just the right firmness. I have food in my pantry, money in my wallet, a nice Riesling in the fine crystal glass beside me. I should be a very content man. But of course I am not. I would gladly trade it all for life as it once was. I would struggle to make ends meet and do without so my child had plenty. I would drive a beat-up old car and add oil to it every week just to keep it running. I would throw an extra threadbare blanket on the bed and snuggle with my wife to stay warm. I would mow my own yard and clean my own house and not think twice about it if I could have the loves of my life back. But this is a Christmas wish that Santa cannot deliver. No matter how carefully I hang the stockings by the fireplace or how snug I would be in my bed, the only hope I have is to have visions of my own sugarplum fairies dancing in my head. 

I am homeless. And, as Mercy Me sings, I've never been more homesick than now.