In The Wee Small . . .
“In the wee small hours of the morning
While the whole wide world is fast asleep
You lie awake and think about the guy*
And never ever think of counting sheep
In the wee small hours of the morning
That’s the time you miss him most of all
Have you ever wondered what septuagenarians do in the middle of the night when they can’t sleep? Well, as a member of the select group of those in their seventies, I can tell you. I have probably not slept a full night since my husband died, and often the only place I can turn is my TV, my cat or my computer.
August has been a particularly restless month so far. It was in August that my husband and my mother died. Though years apart, the month rolls around and my mind is flooded with memories.
This year the events of the year my husband died were totally replicated as to the day of the week. The year my husband died the anniversary of his birthday was on a Friday, followed three days later by his death, and so it was this year. I have been awake a lot of August so I can tell you what is happening in the wee small hours of the morning.
For those who can’t sleep, here’s a litany of what we often do:
Obviously get up for a bathroom trip - - that’s a common one for older folks.
Go back to bed and roll around until you realize it is hopeless.
Get up and watch Turner Classic movies, the quintessential place for many older movie buffs that happen to be awake at 4:30 a.m. Tonight there was a brief interview with Ted Turner talking about his life. And suddenly you remember that you were there when he started his whole empire, watching movies on what was TNT in Atlanta. On Sunday mornings Ted would salute the flag—I always liked that.
Roam to the kitchen for some milk, hoping that will put you back into sleep mode.
Sit down and cover up with a throw, and fight the cat for a corner to cover up with. (But one is patient with the cat as that is the other life force that just happens to be roaming also.)
Listen to the cicadas sing. And I can tell you that by their sound, fall is on the way. Somehow they seem a little more mournful as summer winds down.
Go to you computer and read anything and everything, from song lyrics, to that life of the cicada, to the next daily lesson you will need to discuss when you home school your loved one.
At 6 a.m. you decide you will just give up the ghost, get up and make some coffee to start your day.
And thus it goes. Sometimes you might not see much activity, and then will come a night when you barely hit REM mode. It’s not a great way to sleep, but one gets to see a lot of movies, read a lot, work a zillion crosswords, and so on. But one will also get to hear the relative silence that has fallen over the land, or see the dawn come up and actually be awake when the hummingbird shows up, showing her that other birds are up before her . . . the night owls.
*Writers: David Mann, Bob Hilliard
Lyric reads “think about the girl” – for my case, I substituted “boy”