The logistics of life have not changed that much since Bill died.

Sure, I don’t have anyone to pick up the slack when I am just too tired to do the driving and no back-up when a decision has to be made or I have to be in two places at once.  But in general, my responsibilities have not changed that much.

I did most of the kid driving before he died, because I was home earlier than he was and it just made sense. I also like doing it.  Car rides are a great time to learn about the kids’ lives.

I am lucky I am not alone.  My parents have been an enormous help as has been our friends and teammates.

But the nights…

The evening hours when the kids don’t have activities, but are busy talking on the phone, playing with friends online, doing homework, are the moments that hurt the most.

I sit in his spot on the couch and long to talk to him; long to hear his voice.  I miss him interrupting my reading to talk about something that was really inconsequential. I miss discussing the world, his job, my job.  I miss his laugh.  I miss nagging him to carry in his plate and put it in the sink.

I miss his smile.

I miss him nagging me to put my phone down. I miss sharing what I am learning and what hearing about his day at work and the drama of the post-its on the Agile board.

It’s his companionship I miss the most.

I am independent.  I always have been.  It’s one of the things he equally loved and hated.  The fact that I didn’t need him. And I didn’t need him in my life.  But God how I wanted him in my life.

How I dreamt about our future and sending our kids off into the world. How I dreamt about the summers we would spend traveling after he retired. How we dreamt of what was next.

There isn’t anymore next.  At least not for the couple we were.  I have a whole new “next” to figure out.  A next I never wanted and have no plan for.

His absence is heavy.

The nights are the hardest.