Things I Miss



The slight chuckle you’d give when I said something stupid that you invariably thought was sweet.
The routine we had where I’d ask if you wanted supper and you’d say “yes,” but then wait until I asked what you wanted to eat.
The small, sympathetic sound you would make when it was obvious I was sick or in pain. It never compared to what you were going through, but it worried you just the same.
When you stole the blankets, forcing me to wake up and get new ones because I wasn’t going to try stealing them back.
The times we made food together in the kitchen. We lost those early as your health declined.
Your genuine smile. You were always quick to smile.
How you would spend half a day organizing your medications for the week, then pour all the extra pills into one giant container for storage.
All the times you were better than me in a game. You never rubbed it in my face. You wouldn’t brag about it, so I had to brag for you.
Not having this dull pain in my chest. I used to think “heartache” was a metaphor.
The times you sent me a picture of our cat doing something cute.
The times you sent me several messages in rapid succession about our cat being bad.
Your voice.
Singing together. It took a week before I tried singing one of the songs we liked. It helped.
The countless times you swore like a sailor when a video game made you uncontrollably angry.
How you would always tell me “be careful” whenever I was getting ready to head out, even if only for a few minutes. I still hear your voice when I put my hand on the doorknob. I try to listen to it.
Whenever you would send me something in a game that could only be used on one character, so I wouldn’t use it because it was so precious to me.
When simple acts of kindness towards me would not leave me in tears. It took me a while to realize it’s because that’s how you were every day of your life. I see you in all of my friends and family.
The times you would send me 15 texts in a row when you knew I was driving. You sent me messages more than everyone else. Whenever I heard that chime my heart skipped a beat. I assumed it was you, but then I remembered. I had to change apps not just because of the sound but because every time I opened the old one I saw the last message I ever sent you.
The times you sent me texts while we sat next to each other, and I responded in kind.
The times I would start a shopping list in Google Keep and you would add twenty items to it that would require stops at two or three stores for me to get everything. I wrote this in Google Keep. I still see those shopping lists here.

I miss the good times.
I miss the bad times. They were still times with you, and I cherish those moments.
I miss you.
Unconditionally.

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