It Happened on a Sunday

Ever since I was a kid in school, Sundays haven’t typically been a favorite.

Sunday meant my weekend was over.

It meant an earlier bedtime and getting up entirely too early the next day.

This attitude continued through adulthood, but I learned how to manage it.

As a grown-up, sometimes an earlier bedtime isn’t so bad!

It wasn’t until I met Bret though, that I learned to really and truly dislike Sundays.

If I had a job and he didn’t, it meant that he would pick a fight with me – you know – to really start my week off great. If he didn’t start a fight, he demanded my attention, purposely cutting into my sleep time. To be 100% honest, I can count on one hand how many nights I actually got a full rest, during our marriage.

For whatever reason, Bret took my rest time as an insult to him, and if I tried to choose rest over him, he let me know what a terrible wife I was. He rarely slept through the night either. That was his time to brood and ruminate. He preferred to go to bed at around 6 pm, get mad at me for not following, wake back up around 10, then start in on me.

It was this way no matter the day, really, but Sunday was a special kind of cruel.

He would be uptight and upset all day.

There would be worrying and angst, and I honestly understood some of that dating back to my Sunday Blues as a child.

I would be less understanding when the tension would become directed at me though, which it almost always was.

In the early days, I would fawn, and try to accommodate his mania.

As time went on, though, I had had enough.

I started just letting him rant and rave, knowing that he would invariably “get over” whatever it was he was mad about. After so many years of this behavior, I learned that he craved the fight. If he actually drove me away, he wouldn’t have anyone on which to carry out this regular act.

It was just his thing, and you could count on it like clockwork.

It should have never been surprising that Sunday was the day that he chose to end his life.

We had even been getting along, and then bam! He just changed out of thin air, picking a fight, getting angry.

Still at my breaking point, I let him know what I thought of his horrible behavior, with no holds barred. I have a lot of practice dishing it right back. I still wonder if I had been silent that day, instead of angry, if he would’ve carried out his actions.

I watched him storm into the bedroom, where I had assumed he was grabbing the car keys, then watched him walk to the garage where I heard a loud noise just seconds later.

I went out to see what he was breaking, but he hadn’t broken anything…

Except for his life.

That was 3:11 PM on Sunday, February 11.

He had finally had enough Sundays.

And for a while, I continued hating Sunday.

I remember that first Easter Sunday following his death. I was with my parents and kids, and it was dreary and raining, much like today, but I felt the slightest twinge of hope.

I am not overly religious but the undertones of resurrection were very fitting; I felt serenity.

It was then that I realized that I would never have to worry about being fought with, or scolded for wanting sleep in preparation for the work week, ever again.

The ongoing battle was over.

Sunday is still not my favorite day – but I have learned to respect it.

And it’s comforting to know that he is in peace on Sundays and every other day now, too.

Mark your calendars for May 12, 13 or 14!! Widows of Hope 5K Annual virtual event is back! Let’s come together to support, honor, and bring awareness. More details to come.

SAY THEIR NAME. REMEMBER. HONOR.

Calendar image via Dreamstime.com

About Layla Beth Munk

Layla Beth Munk is a blogger & author who was thrust into this widowhood journey abruptly and tragically on February 11, 2018. Her husband of 12 years had ended his pain once and for all. She soon made the decision that she would not let his final decision define the rest of her life or their daughter’s life, so with her sense of humor at the helm, she started writing about her newfound station in life. Grief waves still get to her, and probably always will, but with the help of her fellow widows as well as friends and family, she has been able to realize her dream of becoming a published author! Layla is so grateful to Hope For Widows Foundation for providing this level of support to her, and so many others! Layla has two amazing children, one who is grown and one who is almost grown. She lives in eastern Oregon and has a wellness & beauty background. Layla enjoys writing poetry, watching anime, and homeschooling her daughter.

Her blog can be found at laylabethmunk.medium.com and her debut novella, 24 Hours in Vegas, is available on Amazon.