missing him

I woke up Saturday thinking about something,
I don't remember what it was,
but I vividly remember thinking I wanted to get Bill's opinion.
Then I remembered.
I can't.

I went to church to clean Saturday afternoon
for the first time since my knee surgery eight and a half weeks ago.
I almost left before beginning.
The first room I entered was the room Bill taught in.
One word remained on the whiteboard:
Prayer
In his handwriting.
Part of me wants it to stay there forever.
Part of me wanted to violently erase it,
the reminder that he will never write a prayer request again.

I went to bed Sunday morning about 1:15 AM.
I didn't stay long.
I miss my husband.
He worked long hours at KCU.
He worked long hours at home
working on our financial stuff
working on the church financial stuff
working on Sunday School lessons and communion meditations.
But there were not very many nights. percentage wise,
in our thirty seven years of marriage that we did not end up sleeping side by side.

I find myself reaching for him.
He is not there.
He will never be there again.
I find myself wanting to ask him a question.
He is not here.
He will never be here again.
I find myself wanting to text
or call just to tell him "I love you."
I find myself listening for his step,
listening for his breathing and occasional snoring.

I still hear Bill say "I love you."
Every time I think about our family.
Every time I am in our home.
Every time I think about my finances.
Every time I drive the car he bought last Black Friday.

But
I miss his touch.
I miss his thoughtfulness.
I miss holding his hand when we walked.
I miss his smile and the looks he reserved for me.
I miss hearing the words  "I love you" from his voice.

I miss my husband.