I am beginning to dread the weekends.
It's an odd turn of fate, truly. Because they used to be my favorite part of the week, and now they are the worst. And because I remember so vividly my mother telling me after my father died how difficult Saturdays were for her because she didn't have her usual busy schedule and spent most of the time alone, thinking, missing him, etc. Now I totally get it.
Now, of course, as busy as I try to be on the weekends, I'm alone. I dread it. And its impossible to get away from it. Even if I go out at night, I come home, nicely dressed and sometimes glowing from a nice evening, to an empty house. There is no one to review the evening's activities with, no one to ask what was meant by a comment made by someone else, no person that you know intimately to banter with like long-married couples do. And that's the real emptiness of the weekends. Being alone on the weekends is very evident no matter what is on the schedule. Its the time I feel the saddest.
In my mother's case I was lucky enough to live right next door, so once I knew she was having a hard time on Saturdays I made a point of walking over to visit in the afternoons. It was a perfect time because my partner was often watching sports on television, so rather than sit with him and knit or chat, I would take my knitting next door and talk with Mom for awhile
. It was good for both of us, filling the empty hours for her and giving me more time with someone I wouldn't always have with me. Now, in retrospect, I treasure those hours on Saturdays with Mom. And I have the new perspective that she treasured them as well. I totally get it.
Saturdays will never be the same for me. Even when they are busy, they feel empty. Its my new reality and I will adjust, but its going to take a long time.