Recently I met a friend for coffee, and she asked me, “what do you miss the most about Seth?” I was speechless for a second because, 1) no one has asked me that and 2) there was only one answer possible. Everything. And that is what makes a sudden loss, or any loss for that matter, so hard.
While I am so thankful to have spent more than half my life with an incredible guy, his heart stopped beating in an instant, and it makes it even that much harder to think of being here without him. When someone you have a deep connection with, who completed you for 22 years, is suddenly gone, you miss that person with every breath you take. There was no warning, no goodbye, no mental preparation to try and imagine how you will get through life without him. I had only visualized growing very old with him and could never bear the thought of having to endure this life without him by my side. While people always say they are so lucky to be married to their best friend, I can say that was one million percent true for me. We were perfect soul mates and Seth and I were so close that no one else in my life can even compare, nor fill that void.
So, if I did have to decide what I miss the most, it’s talking to him. At least once a day something happens or crosses my mind that I want to tell Seth. And not just that I want to tell him something, but that I want to hear his response. He had the best reactions and would get so excited, mad, and all the in betweens, and always knew exactly what type of reaction I needed to hear and see. It’s especially hard when something strikes me as funny (always at the most inappropriate time) and I know that if Seth was here, he would be giggling too, and egging me on.
I no longer have that person, the one you can say anything to. You know, those thoughts you have rolling around your mind that you can only truly share with your person. The one who has zero judgement and usually agrees with your crazy thoughts, or at least knows you so well they understand where you’re coming from with no need to explain. The person you want to call first when something good happens, or whose shoulder you want to cry on when something bad happens. The person you want to complain to, to sit in silence with, to share everything with. There are no more chats in the car on the way home from work before being distracted by the kids, no more talking about our day over dinner, no asking my how my day was, asking if I got to work ok, telling me that he loves me. It’s a pain deeper than I could have ever imagined.
And while people will tell you, “well, you know you can still talk to him. He’s still listening” it’s just not the same as actually talking to him. Each and every day for the last 19 months, all I want to do is talk to my husband, face to face, in person. I know I can ‘talk’ to him at any time, and I’m always ‘telling’ him something throughout the day, but I want to really talk to him. Send him a text and receive a response. Hear him tell me a funny story that makes me laugh until my cheeks hurt. Hear him laugh. Hear him tell me he loves me.
While I know I will always miss everything about Seth, and will always want to talk to him, I’m thankful for those that are here for me now. The people who make me smile, who make me laugh, who listen and want to talk. I also find that on those hardest days, I’ll get a text message out of the blue from someone I haven’t heard from for a while. Usually with a message that makes me smile and I know that’s Seth sending me a smile through the heartfelt goodness of those I’m lucky to have surrounding me on this journey.
So, I’ll continue to talk to my dear, sweet Seth, and imagine those great reactions and those great stories, and find comfort in the great moments we shared. And I know that not only am I missing everything about him, he’s also missing me too.