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The thought brings a bitter taste to my mouth because he has a family… his team. While I am here, on my own.
We are both so busy being, well, busy.
Our lives are passing us by, and I can’t help but feel that if we don’t start making changes now, we may be making the biggest mistakes of our lives.
The only upside is that we both love what we do. We have so much passion and drive to be successful. However, living separate lives, we no longer seem to get much downtime to enjoy and celebrate our achievements together.
While he’s out there coaching the team he loves, I’m working late to avoid coming home to an empty house.
My schedule has become incredibly predictable.
If I’m not visiting venues, organizing destination weddings, extravagant birthday parties, or yet another gender reveal party, which I find hugely painful and fake smile through every single one, I’m eating lunch at my desk on my lonesome, while counting down the days for Ash to return home from yet another away game.
Since winning the Stanley Cup three times in a row, which is incredible and one of Ash’s proudest moments in his career, his schedule has become even more demanding.
Between flying to and from hockey games, making media appearances for the team at charity sport tournaments, and visits to the hospice for sick children, he never stops. Most recently, he was asked to coach a bunch of kids from the local group home who were desperate to start a team but didn’t have the funds or expertise to do so.
Of course, Ash being Ash and with that big, kind heart of his, immediately said yes, giving up any spare time to help them form a team, raise money for their uniforms, and mentor them in the best way Ash knows how; with kindness, dedication, and drive.
I feel guilty because while I know he’s supporting the future generation of hockey players, I miss him.
When he played when we first married, I traveled to some of his games, but when my business took off, I stopped flying to whatever city he was playing in, unable to drop everything for a few days just for him.
Thinking back on it, I was trying to fill my time to avoid facing the reality of being unable to conceive. If I could turn back time, I would give younger me a good shake. She built up walls and hid her emotions and now I’m here, dealing with the repercussions.
Every day, I’m repeating the same behavior, because while I’m busy at work, I don’t have to think about how empty my life has become.
I’m not sure how much longer we can go on living like this; together, yet so far apart.
And my friends, they all appear to be happy.
But me?
The only time I feel happy is when I know Ash is on his way home. I still get that butterfly feeling in anticipation of seeing him again.
I love him with every bone in my body, and I know he loves me too.
Without a shadow of a doubt, I know this, because he tells me every day via voice messages or texts. He calls me in between meetings and interviews and right after every game. If I tell him I saw a cute purse in the mall, he’ll call the store and have it delivered to me. If I complain about neck or back tension, he’ll book me a massage. If my car is making a noise, he’ll have someone from the garage on the driveway within half an hour to inspect it.
My husband is incredibly kind, caring, and the most loyal man I know.
He’s the perfect man.
If only he was around more.
The enormity of my circumstances blindsides me, a pain squeezing my heart with a huge feeling of emptiness.
Not sure how I manage to put one foot in front of the other, and with a heart so heavy it sometimes feels I’m pushing a boulder up a hill, I step into our bedroom. The thick woolen carpet pushes between my toes in the room that’s meant for a husband and wife.
My text alert from my phone breaks the stifling silence. Smiling, my heart fills with excitement knowing it will be Ash telling me he’s landed in Edmonton from Calgary and should be home soon following their afternoon Battle of Alberta game against the Blazers. Rushing over to my nightstand, I lift my phone I left on charge earlier, only to be met with a tidal wave of disappointment.
Like a dead weight, I drop my ass onto the edge of the bed. That sinking feeling in my stomach I always get when his plans change, anchoring me down, as if pulling me under and dragging me further away from him.
Ash:
Our flight’s delayed. x
Again?
