Dear Ben / I Go To Bed at 7 PM

6–10–26

© Dennett ~ Ben ~ Feed Duckings ~ 2–26–2018

Dear Ben,

I don’t want this to make you sad, but I go to bed at 7 p.m. each night. Not because I’m tired, but because I’m done with another day without you.

Hours of emptiness. Hours of loneliness. These take a toll. By 7 p.m., I’ve had enough. I draw the blinds, feed the cats, prepare for bed, and lie down. I read until 8:15ish. I’m asleep no later than 8:45. Usually by 8:30. I talk to you before nodding off. Thankfully, I’m able to sleep.

Loneliness gobbles up the hours of each day. No matter how busy I try to stay, you are always on my mind, and I’m aware of how completely alone I am, even in the presence of others. As the sun sinks, so do I.

Most days I speak to no one other than the cats and you. They sometimes respond; you do not.

A few years ago, I lived in a home full of life. Now, I live in a home full of death — yours and our dear dog, Syau. I go outside, wanting to connect with others. I’m marginally successful, certainly not enough to ease my feeling of abandonment.

When we think about death, I don’t believe we realize the intense loneliness of being the one left behind. We think about carrying on, moving forward, getting on with it. We don’t realize that death keeps us tethered to the past, remembering what was, wishing for a life that no longer exists.

Now, life is less about living than it is about existing.

I wait impatiently to join you.

Missing you always . . .

© Dennett 2026