The Little Things

I have come to a painful realization with Michael's death. I didn't realize how much I could miss a person. Michael and I shared nearly nine years together. Some naysayers thought we'd never make it past a couple years, which wasn't an all together crazy guess. In some aspects we were total opposites: He was outgoing around strangers while I'm more introverted, He was obsessed about cleanliness, while a little clutter for a few days never bothered me. He had a fine detail for design, making our house truly a masterpiece, while I was stuck in a bachelor's apartment mindset. He could nurture and create a beautiful garden, and I couldn't even keep a cactus without killing it.

However we had so much in common too. Our love of family and friends, good food, movies, traveling, football, shopping, bartending, and more. What made our relationship work for those nine years was our understanding of having some independence in our relationship. We each had our own interests and friends, and we also had the understanding that we were in this together and knew where we would be each night -- asleep next to each other. We got each other. I actually only remember two significant arguments during those nine years and only one small threat of a break-up back around year three.

What I miss the most though are the little things. I miss softly touching the little mole he had on his forehead. I miss rolling over in the middle of the night and hearing his breathing (and even sometimes his snoring). I miss watching him stand at the bathroom sink and shave. I miss sitting next to him on the couch sharing a blanket and watching HGTV and Food Network. I miss trying to touch his belly button -- something he never let me do in the nine years together. I miss softly tickling his back at night to help him fall asleep. I miss playing practical jokes on him and waiting for his reaction. I miss going to Steer In with him and having our Sunday morning breakfast in Christy or Cassandra's section. I miss telling him "to turn it off" and shut down his whirling thoughts so he could go to sleep. I miss his gentle and generous spirit where he would often give to friends and family who were going through rough times. I miss teasing him about the occasional stray ear hair (after my constant nagging, he would sometimes let me pull it, but I'd only get one attempt). I miss watching him in mode as he prepared for one of our parties where everything had to be just right. I miss him being able to finish my sentences and thoughts and knowing what I was going to do before I even did it many times. I miss hearing his laughter -- the one thing that immediately drew me to him when we first started dating. We would talk nightly while I lived in Bloomington and he in Indy, and I remember how his laughter was so comforting and such a beautiful sound. I miss so much about him.

One thing I miss the most is seeing him every night when I came home after a game. The back light would be on, and I'd walk into the house and hear him laughing while sitting on the couch wrapped up in a blanket watching TV. He would often greet me with a hug or kiss, and we'd check in on each other's day. We'd sit next to each other, sometimes not even talking, just being there. Sometimes we wouldn't even be in the same room. I'd be online checking Facebook or email, and he'd be in watching TV, and I'd hear him laugh or talk to the TV. We were comfortable and safe knowing each other was close by. Coming home to a quiet dark home reminds me every day that he's gone.

What I miss the most though isn't little. I miss his smile. Michael had the biggest and warmest smile I've ever seen. He'd walk into a room and instantly brighten the mood. He'd soon have people laughing and having a great time. His smile was so inviting; on our travels, his smile helped introduce us to countless people who have since become lifelong friends. At parties in town his smile would bring people together. I'd do anything to see that smile in person again. I will never forget his smile; I take a little bit of that smile and his laughter with me now when I'm in social situations to make myself just a little more outgoing in uncomfortable situations.

I must try and make some sense of his death and my loss. I've lost my best friend, my confidante, my lover, my muse, and my soulmate. One day he was here smiling  and being a joyful man who everyone loved, and in an instant, he was gone. I'm left with all the memories of the big and little things I miss about him.