Missing

I miss you.
I miss you laughing at my fopars, my childish sillyness.
I miss your touch, your sense of direction, your help with parenting.
I miss doing life with you and the I hate the fear of not being able to do it with you again.
I miss your love of English comedy, your ability to make an evening more fun by suggesting great things to do with our friends.
I feel lonely without you here with me.
I miss the manly help with sorting the fireplace out. I miss you doing the finances.
I miss being a team and I miss encouraging you in your gifting.
I miss the masculine side of our family, the rough and tumble. Mine just doesn’t cut it quite as well with the girls.
We are not the same without you. Your choices are a huge loss to us. I miss you being here with me in this new adventure of our life. I miss your wisdom and I miss playing games of cards.
I miss socialising as a couple. It is not the same.
I miss your prayers, they were good prayers.
Today apparently, you had an operation. I actually missed picking you up from the hospital and helping you with whatever pain you are in.
I miss telling you all the funny things that the girls say. The prayers they pray, the thoughts and feelings they have.
I miss you cooking bangers and mash. I miss you using the bbq.
I miss.