TRD Posted April 26, 2015 Report Share Posted April 26, 2015 I'm new to this forum. And I hope that it will help me to find understanding and comfort. My husband, my best friend, my rock made his transition on December 1, 2014 after a short but wicked battle with cancer. We met in 2001, We had each spent decades in marriages that were difficult at the best of times. But I’m not sure either of us was looking for anything permanent. I think we were both just a bit lonely. … And so we each joined Match.com. Yep, we did! If you think about it, how else would the Theatrical Costume Designer and the Computer Technician meet?? March 31, 2001 we met for the first time at a small coffee shop. He had a dozen roses, a warm smile and a twinkle in his eyes. And I was smitten!! I had a smile he said lights up a room. And he knew! .... And so, Brian, the boy from the small Midwestern Town, and Teri, the girl from NYC, were married on June 1, 2002. He has been my hero, and I was his wings. He's a solid rock and I see fairies. I dragged him down roads he would never have thought to travel. And he helped me find the courage to be me. I AM his mischievous 5 year old; he IS my knight in shining armor. We were, on the face of it, so very, very different. But all the parts and pieces fit together perfectly. We filled the last 14 years with an amazing amount of laughter, adventure and unconditional love. And finally, together, we faced this demon called cancer. NOW, I get up every morning and there’s no one there to say “Good Morning” to. There’s no one there to kiss good-bye or to say, “Have a great day” to. There are no more random texts during the day, to or from them that say, “Just remember I love you”. There are no more random phone calls, to or from, that say, “Just needed to hear your voice.” Brian would come home for lunch and since I work a split shift, I would be downstairs in the studio when the click of his boots on the floor upstairs would signal his arrival. That sound doesn’t exist in my world anymore. … He would get home before me most nights and be waiting with a warm hug and a kiss. The house is always empty now. … When I’ve had a bad day, there’s no one there to kiss my forehead and tell me a stupid joke. … When I’ve had a good day there’s no one there to do a happy dance with. …. There’s no one there who needs to share how their day went with me. … During dinner we would sit at the table and talk about our day, we’d laugh or gripe. Now, there’s just silence. … After dinner there would be all sorts of things we did together: a long walk; a trip to the ballpark, sitting in the backyard with a drink, maybe a ballgame on the iPad, a motorcycle ride for some ice cream. Now, there’s just me. … No hand to hold on that walk. No one to tease me as I keep score with multicolored pens. No glass to clink with mine and to toast our usual toast – “You & Me babe – Us, all the way”. No motorcycle to ride behind. At bedtime, there’s no flesh & blood hand to hold as I crawl into bed. … There’s no more late night tickle fights. … There are no more warm feet to snuggle my cold ones. … There’s no actual voice that says “ I love you, baby”. … There’s no one there for me to hide under when the thunder rumbles the house in the middle of the night. … There’s just silence and a big bed that’s half empty. We planned some sort of vacation adventure together every year. Now, there’s just me. Now, the “touch deficit” has started and continues to pile up. … No more holding hands. … No more casual rub across your back as he passes by. … No more leaning into his shoulder as you wait in line at the grocery store. … No more swats on your butt. … No more snuggling up behind him and wrapping your arms around him as he tries to wash his hands. … No more snuggles on the couch as you watch a movie.. No more hand on your leg as he drives down the road. … No more hugs. … No more kisses. … No more love making. Yes, I know that we were blessed to have found each other. Lots of people never get to experience this kind of love. … So just imagine the breadth and depth of the loss. Yes, I know that he is with me always. And it’s that that keeps me sane. … But have you ever tried to hug a ghost? Thanks for listening. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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