If I closed my eyes, or even if I just defocussed a bit… I could almost see him. I could almost hear his laughter, feel his hand on my shoulder, feel his presence. I could almost hear the conversation he would have been having with the people around me.
His energy was so close. It was almost as if he were there… just for a moment.
That’s the moment I realized I needed to leave my 20 year reunion.
That’s the moment when all I could hear from other women there was “My husband… my husband… my husband” and the awareness of them going back to their husbands was so in-my-face. The reality that they could reach over and touch their husband, ask a question, get them to grab a sweater or glasses or another drink… and…
I. COULD. NOT.
That’s the moment I needed to go.
I still made my rounds, said goodbye, promised to keep in touch.
I may even go to the pancake breakfast planned for the morning.
But the overwhelming pain. The overwhelming need for him. The overwhelming feeling of MISSING him… became too much.
I miss him. More than I imagined it was possible to miss someone.