Sunday Departures

It ‘s Sunday,
your day of departure
I wake in a panic.

We breakfast
listening to the radio,
silently reading newspapers.
I glance at you,
and that dreaded feeling
slinks in,
my heart sinking
to my stomach.

Time after time we say “goodbye”.
The longer you stay,
the harder the parting.
I will never get used to it,
How I wish there was an easier way.

Tickets, passport, the usual checks,
I smile, masking tears.
My whole being shrinks
my heart aching,
as we drive to the Air coach.
I break the silence apologising
“I don’t feel so well”
because I know it’s hard for you too.

With a kiss and a cuddle
you hold me tight,
fraught with emotions, I tremble.
I shudder you away
saying "we might skype later".
Head down, you enter the bus.
I turn, sobbing my way to the car
waving through a veil of tears.

I bite my lip,
breathe a heavy sigh
swiping my eyes with my hands.
My body heaves
all the way home.

I stand in our hallway
in deafening silence,
The house feels immense.
No husband, no children,
I wonder where have you all gone
and why am I still here
alone?

I feel an overwhelming tiredness
dragging myself upstairs.
Lying on the bed,
I receive a text from you saying
“I feel the same way,
I will be home again soon,
love you ”
and I cry,
I shed heartbroken tears
missing you,
missing us
of days and weeks alone,
wondering how many more years.

I'm wishing life away
to be with you,
as the cycle kickstarts anew.