The end of week 3

Week 3

21 days without him.

21 days of no kisses, no cuddles, no random touches, no squeezing past, no loving, no sex, no nothing.

Interesting Cremation.
Lovely Celebration.
Fantastic support.
Great friends.
Bad news.

But no him. The vitalness that was him just slipped away that day.

It is still here, at times. In the dark of the night I can hear his voice, feel his touch in my dreams, and wake to think he is still here, that if I slide my hand back, I will feel the warmth of his body, smooth skinned and firm. That if I move my body back, to touching his, that his arm will come over me, pulling me into him, folding himself around me, legs over my legs, arms over my arms, his mouth on the back of my neck.

I miss him.
All of him.

Everything we did, we did together. Most of those things we did separately, but we did them in a shared space. He read, I marked books. He played games, I blogged. I baked, he tidied. We did different things in the same space.

But I know he loves me. And I love him.