Living without him.

This is something I’m still grappling with after all this time. Shortly after Mike died I remember thinking, “We’re all so young. I still have so many years ahead of me, God-willing. How am I going to live that long without him?” It was a fair question and if I’m being honest, that question still comes up for me from time to time.

By the grace of God, I’ve made a beautiful life for me and my kids. We’ve gone on some seriously life-giving, life-altering adventures. We’ve laughed and danced and explored a lot. We reside in a community/city/state that has become a part of who we are and live in a space that feels like home. In that home, we’ve healed, made new memories, and have grown so much. Yet, there always feels like something is missing.

There is always an empty chair at our dining room table where he should be sitting.

There is always room for one more on our couch or in my bed as we cozy up and watch movies together.

There is always…

It is his presence, after all these days without him, that we still miss in our home.

His absence is felt daily.

In the little and in the big things.

For us, time hasn’t changed that. We’ve just learned to live around it in our own ways.

You just cannot replace, fill or substitute the sacred space that my Love, their Daddy, once held and so magnanimously filled.

I guess too that having grown up with someone, having kids together, all those years maturing, is in itself such an adventure. Some stuff you plan for, most stuff just happens and you adjust and embrace it. It’s all crazy and wild and incredible. I miss sharing the crazy and wild and incredible with him. The simple things that brought us so much joy. The adventure of living the everyday mundane that as I’ve grown older recognize isn’t really that mundane after all.