Tom’s absence is weighing so incredibly heavy these days. There is a different longing for him that I am feeling. It’s the kind of missing him that makes my throat tighten and gives me the achy feeling in my heart. The kind of missing that makes me sigh deeply without feeling of relief or breath that a sigh can bring. It’s such a huge empty feeling that I feel deep down will never be filled. I miss so many things about him, about us. It’s funny, not ha ha funny but more the hmmm kinda funny is that I am really remembering him and our love, from our Pre ALS life. I know that is how he would want me to remember him. I am actually grateful that I can do that and not be stuck in the memories of our ALS life.

As I move farther from his passing, there is also this feeling of losing him over and over and over again. I am losing my ability to remember his voice, granted it has been since 2019 since I heard him speak in his natural voice, but just the reassuring computer voice of “I love you” is hard to remember. My name. That is something I very much miss, how he would say my name. Oh, and his laugh. He had the best laugh. I heard it all the time. I know, I am a lucky girl, but that’s because we had so much fun with each other. We laughed all. the. time. You know, I do have copies of his voice recordings on my computer, but I have to be careful of when I play it. Tom’s service dog, Lou, doesn’t understand how he can hear his person’s voice but he can’t find him. It’s upsetting to Lou so if I do pull up old videos of Tom or Tom’s voice recording’s they are done when no one is around.

Besides hearing his voice, I miss the warmth and strength of his hands. I miss holding those hands. My own hand fit perfectly with his. I miss the way he would bring our clasped hands to his lips just to kiss the back of my hand and tell me how much he loved me. That feeling of his hand on my shoulder or back to let me know things are okay or to guide me. They were strong hands. They could build things and open all the things I could not, but they were kind and gentle too. They gently held our newborn, premature son. There was something just so calming and peaceful about his touch.

Man do I miss his smell, the twinkle in his eyes and his smile. Especially the smile that was more like a smirk. I miss those things too. I miss having him to talk to. To start the day discussing what our schedule looked like or end the day with conversations as simple as weekend plan or just to tell me how much he missed me while at work. He was like that. He would call me or text me during the day just to tell me he loved me or missed me. I miss snuggling next to him at night and laying my head on his chest. Taking in his smell…ladies, you know what I mean.

I just miss him. Maybe all the big feelings are coming at me because his one year anniversary is just over a month away. I am dreading it. Knowing it’s been a year is hard because while it feels like he has been gone an eternity, it also feels like yesterday. I know and understand grief is personal and it is definitely not linear. I talk to him every day. I text his phone and send pictures. All the things I have always done. I just miss his love and what it meant to me, which was EVERYTHING!

This is my widow journey. I wonder if he would be proud of me and Trey and how we have handled the first year. Does he know how empty my heart feels without him next to me? This journey is lonely, more so than I could have ever imagined. No matter how many people you surround yourself with or how busy you try and keep yourself, the loneliness of the widow journey is ever present for me.

I miss you Tom.