The first night of crying myself to sleep.

We're at a lake house, so I'm lonely.  Away from Ryan, who I've lived with for the past two years, I'm missing our intimacy.  The kids are my only source of intimacy, closeness.  I went to bed last night and as soon as I closed my eyes, I began to test my senses, drawing a sensory memory of Von and Kai in my head; the feel and color of their skin, their smell, their hands, their heads on my shoulders, their arms around my neck, the warmth of our connected glances.  Nothing in my life is like their love.  And they're not my kids.  I'm not sure what's confused in me, but I know that saying goodbye to them will be different than any other goodbye I've ever said.  Von is 2.5, and he won't even feel so close again.  Kai will remember, but he won't mistakenly call other people Emily, and soon he won't include me when he lists his family members.  I'm really afraid of that.  I'm really fucking sad about that.  How could I not cry myself to sleep?