Intimacy is what I miss most when I think about my husband Frank.

All the ways two people are intimate with each other doesn’t always involve sex. It’s the little things that make up a life together. It’s the little things that matter.

The intimacy of answering the phone “Hey babe”.

The intimacy of having your own love language.

The intimacy of working in the home office together – him at his desk and you at yours.

The intimacy of being hugged from behind and nuzzled on the neck while you cook dinner.

The intimacy of shared, comfortable silence.

The intimacy of shared secrets and pillow talks at 3am.

The intimacy of matching your pace to theirs as you walk.

The intimacy of finishing each other’s sentences.

The intimacy of doing nothing while sitting in the same room.

The intimacy of falling asleep on their shoulder and them not caring about the drool.

The intimacy of trusting them completely.

The intimacy of buying them a snack at the store anyway even though they said they didn’t want anything.

The intimacy of texting a song with the message “This made me think of you.”

The intimacy of clipping their toenails.

The intimacy of scratching a hard-to-reach place on their back.

The intimacy of knowing when something is worrying them without a word being said.

The intimacy of recognizing their voice in a crowd.

The intimacy of singing (badly) together in the car.

The intimacy of leaving the bathroom door open when you pee.

The intimacy of enjoying each other’s company.

The intimacy of saying “I know you better than you know yourself.”

The intimacy of huddling together under a blanket on the couch or floor.

The intimacy of bringing them breakfast in bed.

The intimacy of noticing their weird idiosyncrasies and nervous habits.

The intimacy of knowing how they like their coffee.

The intimacy of them getting a tattoo of your name on their chest.

The intimacy of saying “I had a dream about you.”

The intimacy of instantly recognizing their handwriting.

The intimacy of calling just because you wanted to hear their voice.

The intimacy of being there for them when they got sick.

The intimacy of wanting them to watch TV in the bedroom even though you are trying to sleep.

The intimacy of saying “Text me when you get home, so I know you’re safe.”

The intimacy of never being late to pick them up from work.

The intimacy of not going out because you want to stay home alone.

The intimacy of falling asleep on a long car ride because you trust their driving.

The intimacy of putting fresh sheets on the bed together.

The intimacy of having the phone in your hand to call them and then it rings. It’s them calling you.

The intimacy of inside jokes.

The intimacy of matching their breathing rhythm while they sleep.

The intimacy of waiting to eat until you can eat with them.

The intimacy of a warm hand in yours.

The intimacy of staying in bed a few minutes longer in the mornings.

The intimacy of being tired together, a head on a chest while falling asleep to the thump, thump, thump of your love’s heart.

I’m sure I could have come up with a lot more, but you get the idea. What are some intimacies that you and your spouse shared?

Let’s keep in touch! If anything resonated with you, please leave a comment below or find me on Instagram @tofrankwithlove


Joyce was born and raised in Oklahoma and is the youngest of sixteen children. She has worked in the education and nonprofit industries for over 15 years. She holds a bachelor's degree in Organizational Leadership.

In the summer of 1983, at the age of sixteen, Joyce met her husband and soulmate Frank and soon after started a family. They were married for over 38 wonderful and adventurous years.

Joyce is a mother to two adult sons, a grandmother to a feisty Leo granddaughter, and a transplant wife and widow after Frank passed away due to COVID-19 complications on August 25, 2021 after receiving a kidney transplant four years earlier. He died exactly one week before her birthday.

Joyce's writings on grief, love, loss, and the beautiful mess in between are an intimate look at life without her husband Frank and how his unexpected and untimely death showed her that nothing in this world lasts forever, even true love, and that life can change in one tragic instant.

You can read more of Joyce’s writings about her beloved Frank on Instagram @tofrankwithlove