Fierce Widow

“Enjoy the little things, for one day you may look back and realise they were the big things.”

The little things are the things I miss most. The things that I remember most. I miss simple smiles from him, when I’d say something silly. I miss catching his eyes filled with love in the revision mirror, when he would sit in the back of the car to entertain the kids. I miss ordering two coffees in the morning on the way to work. I miss the routine we had. “Can I get a large skinny latte and a cappuccino with three sugars please?”

No longer do I get to enjoy ordering him a cappuccino with three sugars. And to me that’s a big deal.

Six months has passed and I have intentionally continued purchasing the same washing powder that we used when he was here. I do this because it’s a familiar smell, not his smell but it’s familiar. The past few weeks going grocery shopping, I’ve looked for this washing powder but it is no longer there. I’ve been hoping it was just out of stock and it would show up the following week. Three weeks has now passed and it’s not there. It would seem silly to most but this week I stood in the isle and cried realising that the familiar smell is gone, he has gone.

Yes to most it’s a little thing, but to me it’s a big thing.

For the six month mark, I decided not to stay home and cry. Instead I headed out to play a game of pool and enjoy a well-deserved vodka and a few wines with a couple of my loves best friends. Pool was something my love and I played often, just us two, he would usually let me win. During the evening we all laughed and told stories to each other about my love, I felt close to him again. It was familiar.

His friends asked me questions about him. Little things like “What was his favourite colour?” I took delight and was happy to answer “Orange”. A day that I was extremely anxious about. A day that for the most part had me in tears, ended in laughter because I was reminded of the little things. I was able to talk about him and our life.

When he first passed away I would tell people stories about him every day, all day. I’m not sure why I stopped. I guess I felt as though I was repeating myself and that people would soon get sick of me talking about him. Talking about him gives me some peace from this new life, reminiscing on our adventures together brings a genuine smile to my face.

Talking about my love has become one of the little things in life that is really one of the big things. No longer will I worry about whether others are uncomfortable or board hearing me tell the same stories over and over. The people who matter in my life will be there to listen on repeat, for as long as I need to be on repeat. If they’re not there than they weren’t a person who mattered in the first place.

The memory of him and the love we shared will last my lifetime. His life and love will continue in my heart infinitely. As long as I breathe he will be remembered. Although I miss the little things most of all, I will take joy from them, smile and remember those little things. Out loud and on repeat.