Thinkin of the day, when you went away. What a life to take, what a bond to break. I'll be missing you..."
To say I miss Kurtis is an understatement. I know of no word in the English language - or any language for that matter - that fully explains about the way I feel when I think of him, wish he were here.
I miss his smile. His laugh. His voice. I miss having someone to go to the movies with. To help pay the bills and mow the lawn. I miss the intimate moments in bed.
But more than all that, I just miss him. His physical presence. Just him being here.
I know people look at me three years out, and think the depth of my emotions is too deep. That time should have erased a little of that miss. But I don't think it ever does, for anyone. Deep down, in those private spaces we reserve only for ourselves, it is always there. And that's not a bad thing.
The heart is the only thing I know of that has infinite capacity. It has room to love one, two, or a dozen children equally, without measure. It has room to love a husband, mother, father, friend. And it is in that heart, in the spot that is reserved for Kurtis alone, that my missing him resides. It lives right next to the love, intertwined with the love. In a pocket that will never go away.
Does the missing him ever change? Does it ever get easier? Some moments I say yes. The edges soften with time. Other moments I say no. It's always cutting just as deep. It all depends on what else is in my heart at the moment. Whether there is something wrapping it, protecting it, to soften the blow. What I do know, however, is soft or hard, close to the surface or buried deep, it is always there.
And when I see those things that remind me of him, or see that gap in my life where he once stood, I think of him. Of what we had, and what we should have had. Of where and who we were. And I long to feel all those things again.
I miss that.
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