I miss him on those days at work where nothing seems to go right. I miss that he knew when to hug (and when to stay out of my personal space), when to listen, when to offer his advice, and when to tell me to suck it up and move on. I miss him on those days.
I miss him on the days when good things happen: I miss him when our daughter learns to tie her shoes, our son reads over 200 minutes without fighting, and we finally get an affordable car that works. I miss him on those days.
I miss him on the days when someone needs to make phone calls, make important decisions, and learn about yucky things like health insurance. I miss him on those days.
I miss him on the days when the kids make mess after mess in order to get my attention, I miss being able to share the parenting spotlight, and not feel so guilty about the lack of cuddle time. I miss him on those days.
Most of all, I miss him. I miss his presence, his spirit, his perspective. I miss that he loved me when my heart was too big, and also too small. I miss that he knew my best and worst sides, and loved me anyway. I miss his smile, his tears, his emotion, or sometimes, lack thereof. I miss his nerdiness, his stupidness, and brilliance. I miss the package that was this good man, who loved me more than anyone.
I miss his love for me, our kids, and our life.