Steve and I were so programmed to wait for the nurse to arrive at night that we automatically stayed up until she would have arrived; it took us months to just go to bed when we wanted. Getting up in the morning is also completely different. There is no crazy morning ritual because I don't have to hurry down to meet the bus with the talker programmed and everything done. There isn't a drawer full of tubes and the bottles and bottles of medications are gone.
Those are just things, though. The hardest part of all is missing Maggie. She was the nerve center of everything. She was the queen and she knew it. We were her loyal subjects, we were her army. We were happy to do her bidding and fight her battles. Without the queen, the subjects are a bit lost, the troops disbanded, and the generals a bit at sea, especially me
My role was clear when Maggie was here. I was the general, so used to taking charge and getting things done. I led the troops which included her nurses, teachers, therapists and people on the street. Now I have no troops and no queen and I don't know who I am.
Maggie has two brothers, but they are all grown up and certainly do not need their mother running their lives. Steve was a co general --three stars to my four, really -- so he doesn't need any bossing around. (Though I'm not above trying from time to time).
Now I am charged with figuring out how to live in a world that doesn't need what I have to offer, and doesn't offer what I need most. I suppose when you get right down to it, it's nothing more than a dramatic case of empty nest, so I will find my way.
Until that is figured out, I just find myself singing this song from "White Christmas" over and over