Lonesome

Yesterday was a hard day. Some are just like that. I missed my person on a bone-aching level. I want to be sure that I describe lonesome with appropriate nuance. I have friends. I have family. I have folks who check in and who love me. I don’t feel disconnected to the wider world in any major existential sense. I am really quite lucky and grateful for the people in my life. Truly.

And yet. When the every-day normal was waking up and sharing breakfast, conversation, laughter. Instant messages and emails throughout the day. And then that feeling of exhilaration when he would pull up in front of the house and walk in to hug me. An hour of decompressing from work, discussing our respective days, hearing him say “you are so restful; I love coming home to you.” Then the kitchen dance of dinner prep, bumping into each other accidentally but mostly on purpose. Evenings spent talking, laughing, dreaming, playing cribbage. Every day. Every dang day. And poof. Gone. All of it.

How do I piece together a normal I don’t want? I want him. And he’s not here. I know I have to, but I hate it. And it hurts so much. So I force myself to do the tasks of every day–cats, garden, house, paperwork–while also striving to both seek and create meaning and beauty. But there are times I want to scream or take a hammer to glass or throw things. Gah! Soul-searing ache…