When my husband died I found out that I missed so many things about him that I didn’t expect to miss.
I knew I would miss him holding my hand, touching me, and kissing me, but I didn’t realize how much I would miss him not snoring next to me at night. I didn’t know I would miss his bad habit of opening something and just leaving the empty package where ever he opened it instead of throwing it in the trash. I didn’t know I would miss his smell of cigarettes. I hate to smell cigarette smoke, but on him I missed the smell. I missed him getting up in the middle of the night and opening our bedroom window just to sit on the bed and look at the stars. I missed him waking me up at night and asking if I was awake only to tell me that he couldn’t sleep and wanted to know if I couldn’t sleep too. I miss him drinking whiskey for breakfast and telling me that it eased his cancer pain better than any morphine or pills. I miss him calling Missy in the middle of the night, or at her job just to tell her that he wanted to hear her voice, and then listening to him talk to her about really nothing at all for an hour. I miss him sitting by our front window and watching the neighbors and seeing them all wave to him.
After he died, I didn’t know how many neighbors said they still wave at our window out of habit, in memory of him. Mostly I miss him telling me that everything will be ok, not to worry, that he will take care of it. I miss that feeling that I could be worrying about something and he would tell me that and all my worries would be swept away, he would take them from me. I miss that even though he wasn’t always the man I wanted him to be, he never lied to me. He always told me the truth about who he was and he never apologized to me for being who he was. I miss that no-one ever loved me like he did and I know that no-one else ever could because I wouldn’t let them.
Yes, when my husband died, I found out I missed so many things about him that I didn’t expect to miss, but mostly I miss him. I heard Mike tell Missy once she was his home. I understand that now, because, since my husband died, I have a nice place to live, and am so happy with Missy and Mike, but my home is gone, my home died when my husband did, and I didn’t expect to miss that. – Barbara Taylor Vaughan/AUTHOR