Well! I made it through another night…it has been 11 days and 9 hours since Terry left us…and we have all survived. Honestly, sometimes it felt like I was going to stop breathing, and sometimes I wished I would go to sleep and not wake up, but God has his plans for us and for the last 11 days and 9 hours it was to keep going here on this Earth and I am ok with that. I want my kids to have someone to lean on, and they have been leaning pretty hard. I am grateful to be here for them.
You know, though…I miss being touched. I miss a kiss on the lips and a fond ass-grab and a grinning lecherous grope when I get out of the shower. We were both touchers. (Microsoft tells me that’s not how it’s spelled. Piss off Microsoft. I don’t care about your squiggly red line). I miss holding his hand in the car or at church or walking through the store. I miss footsie in the bed as we went to sleep. Among other things. I miss scratching his back and him scratching mine. He excelled at back scratching.
I miss handing him a jar to open. A lot of the time I was perfectly capable of opening it myself but it made him feel good to do it. He would explain stuff like leverage and torque to #4, using a jar of pickles to demonstrate. The man loved to teach.
One of his dreams was to retire at 55, and teach high school chemistry. If anyone could handle a room full of high school smart-alecks, it would be him, with his large imposing presence and bright blue eyes that would snap like lightning.
Now that my mind has come to terms (for the most part) with the idea that he won’t be striding in the back door, on his long, long legs (36 inch inseam y’all…really long legs), at the end of the day, my body is having to come to terms with the idea that it is going to be a very long time, if ever, that I will get to feel that fond and familiar touch, filled with love and comfort only many years together can bring. I am not sure how to handle this one.