Missing Burt since he died a little over a year ago in many ways is not so different from how I felt his absence during his illness.
He is not here and that is obvious in our empty house. It is obvious when I walk in the door or into the other room.
I miss hearing his voice and the random funny things he could say, the quirks that I found endearing.
Many of the things I miss, besides his corporeal presence and holding his hand, I missed those last years of his illness.
I miss us, and have missed that for a long time.
I miss the interaction, the dis- and the agreements, all the intimacies, the look we would share and that made us co-conspirators when in a dubious situation, the co- operation, the single-mindedness that comes with being a pair.
We morphed into a new us and changed as the journey wended us through emotional hill and dale, and I also miss those two people from that relationship. From that different relationship, the one in which care comes before partner.
this is our life 