I Miss Him

Some days, it just hits. Hits like a ton of bricks. He's not here. I miss him.

I miss my distant husband. "You are my person," I always tell him. The person who loves me, unconditionally. The love of my life. My confidant. Who I seek during difficult times, and even better, when life is on an upswing. My safety net.

Our king-sized bed feels never-ending when I reach for him, when he's not here. Ironically, he too, sleeps in a seemingly infinite - huge - bed, alone.

I miss the father of my children. The male figure. The loving embrace. Strong arms wrapped around youthful youth, during happy, and sad moments. I miss watching him watch sports, cheer loudly; son nearby. Overhearing him talk casually with his older children about life. Their life. His life. Our life. I miss those endearing interactions. I miss the smell of the food that takes all day to prepare, to satiate his hungry children. Me. I miss those days.

I miss my friend. My best friend. The person who knows me. Has been there for-ev-er. I miss our couch talks. Sitting there. Just talking. Talking about our situation. The ups. The downs. The whys. And the why-nots. I miss the daily interaction with him. My friend.

Most days are filled with the business of life.

Rise out of bed.

Bring forth the day.

Retire for the night.

Days come and go so quickly.

Most days are distractingly busy, yet...

....some days feel hollow; reminding me that he truly is not here. He's there.

Before I know it there will be no more days left. And I know that missing him will be just that. Missed. Over. Done. No more.