I Miss You

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.