It’s been seven months since you died.
Two hundred and twelve days.
…and God, I miss you.
Last night, half asleep I rolled over to put my arm around you only to be abruptly woken up with the reminder that you are no longer here.
I miss snuggling with you.
I miss waking up next to you, only to find that you were already awake, looking at me. I hope I never forget the color of your eyes.
I miss watching “our” shows with you…most of them I’ll never finish now.
I miss laughing with you.
Or at you.
I miss you laughing at me.
I just miss your laugh.
I can’t remember what it sounded like anymore.
Your smile, oh, how I miss your smile.
Not the fake, tight-lipped one you did in pictures, the same one Luke does…your real smile.
I miss all of our inside jokes. So many times throughout the day I run into something that reminds me of one…but you’re not here for me to text it to.
I miss being stupid with you; rapping back and forth in text messages and goofing around.
I miss slow dancing in the living room with you.
I miss playing guessing games with you while we’d cook dinner.
I miss talking about our future with you. Now we don’t have a future-it is only my future, without you.
I miss your love, you really were a wonderful husband. The way you’d bring me flowers home and surprise me, take the dog out so I could sleep in, the way you taught me new things and were patient with me if I didn’t understand. The way you always communicated and were honest.
I miss missing you when you were gone on trips and looking forward to the feeling of welcoming you home.
Now, I don’t know where home is- your heart was my home.