Every day brings a different perspective of what it is like to be living without Tony. Some days it feels trivial to try and capture or talk about all the little things, but when I don’t, they add up to be a mass of heartache, anger and sadness. That seems to be the triangle I am stuck in lately – this struggle to accept that what we had is no longer, and that it will never return. I keep feeling like I should be more okay with this new life as time goes on and yet it’s quite the opposite. The frustration in feeling that way just brings on more heartache, anger and sadness.
So what am I missing these days? The simple things, really.
I miss how he loved doing the grocery shopping on Sunday mornings…I had a magically stocked refrigerator by Noon and dinner made for the family on Sunday nights. Some days it was something he’d come up with while at the store, other days it was just munchies and appetizers for a day of watching football and being home. Other days he’d make our favorites or stock the freezer with things for quick meals.
I miss how he always filled the cars up with gas and ran them through the car wash on the weekends.
I miss his spontaneity…a decision to head out and see where the day would take us.
I miss being his passenger. Riding shotgun next to him was one of my most favorite places to be.
I miss being able to turn and look back at my kids while riding down the road. Not just the glance in the rearview mirror…being able to do the full turn and laugh or yell or just look at them.
I miss pushing his buttons. And having my buttons pushed. Both in fun and in seriousness. Because when you don’t have your person to bicker and hash things out with, your inner voice can drive you crazy.
I miss his finicky choices about certain products. Toothpaste, laundry detergent, peanut butter….sometimes I buy what he didn’t like, perhaps to spite him and in hopes that he will send me some sign I’ve irritated him. Other times, I buy what he always liked, so it feels like he’s still here.
I miss the routine of our life. I still find myself folding laundry or doing something mundane and expect him to walk in the room to tell me something.
I miss our lunch and dinner dates. Not just the ones where we’d get dressed up and have reservations but the ones where we happened to have the moment to grab a bite together, even if it meant sweats and no makeup.
I miss looking for him amongst the crowd at events and having that brief moment where you catch each others glance just to check in.
I miss having my co-parent…advising me when the battle is worth fighting and when it’s worth letting go. And most of all, I miss him taking over the battle when he could see I’d had enough.
I miss the night time. When the kids would go to bed and we’d settle in to watch something on the DVR or tuning into the same dumb slapstick comedy movie that seemed to be on every couple of days. Knowing when he’d laugh and what he was going to quote before it happened.
I miss it all and so much more. There are days when missing him means a warm memory with a smile, and there are days that the mere memory of something simple can send me into a tailspin of tears.
But this is the journey.
I have no choice other than to accept it for what it is and take the good with the bad. I have to trust in myself and the process of grieving and all the secondary losses that accompany this giant hole in our lives. To recognize that I am making progress in moving forward, even when it feels like I’m not.