Brian,

It’s Saturday morning. I remember waking up early on Saturday mornings to start breakfast for us. You would still be in bed, attempting to recreate the sound of train horns. Eggs, bacon and coffee, every Saturday morning. I knew the one sure way to wake you up would be to gently touch your cheek and say “hey, coffee’s ready”, and within no time we were both in the kitchen enjoying breakfast together. I still have eggs, bacon and coffee every Saturday morning. But it doesn’t taste the same now. My coffee is the same brand, my eggs are from a different farm, still the same brand of bacon, I’m cooking in a different kitchen, but something tells me even if it was our kitchen, the same farm bought eggs, it still wouldn’t taste the same, because I’m not sharing it with you.

I have cried every Saturday morning because I miss that routine. I miss making your breakfast and your coffee. ¾ of the cup filled with coffee, ¼ of the cup filled with cream and two sugars. Three eggs, five slices of bacon, and of course some hot sauce on the side. There are parts of our routine that I don’t want to give up, but my coffee doesn’t taste as good with tears in it. I don’t even know if I enjoy eggs and bacon anymore, but I eat it because it reminds me of all those Saturday mornings.

Sometimes we would go to church, sometimes take a long walk or a hike; and almost every Saturday morning you needed to wash something from the laundry. “Nope, I want to wear this shirt, don’t worry I’ll put it on quick wash”

I miss our walks around the neighborhood, the park, the Botanical Gardens. I miss seeing your face filled with excitement during our hikes. I miss sitting next to you in church holding your hand, without fail you would look over at me and say “I love you”. Every Bible verse you knew, every question the pastor had, you had the answer to. Then came the songs, sometimes you would start off in the melody, then jump to the harmony, and right back to the melody. We would chuckle at it, you’d shrug your shoulders and whisper to me “I don’t know the harmony for that part”.

I miss our Saturday afternoons cuddling on the couch, watching yet another nature or space documentary, or taking a long nap. Its funny how all those little things don’t seem so big when they’re happening but those are the things that I miss the most. I miss all the hugs and all the shared looks, I miss the silly jokes and the silly songs we would create,  laughing until our sides hurt. I miss waking up before you, looking over at you, running my hands through your hair and thinking that I was the luckiest person alive, because I had found the one whom my soul loves. I miss fighting for the blanket that first winter, eventually we each got our own blanket. I miss stealing your new socks, even though it drove you crazy. “Where are all my socks?!” It was the one thing you hated sharing. If we need socks in heaven I’m probably still going to wear yours.

I don’t want a new routine, but I need to add things and remove things from my routine. Not because I want to forget you, but because it hurts so much to do all the things that remind me of you. Right now I can’t do everything that reminds me of you, it hurts too much, maybe one day, maybe never.

Mark 10:8 says “ the two shall become one, they are no longer two but one flesh”. We had become one Brian, so intertwined, so connected. We always laughed at our ability to finish each other’s sentences, or look at each other and know what the other one was thinking. “Stop thinking my thoughts!” I miss sharing all my thoughts and innermost parts of my heart with you. There is no one now to take that place.

I would do anything in the world to have you back. I would make your eggs exactly the way you like it, I would make a perfect cup of coffee everyday, I would probably even stop wearing your socks if it meant I could have a lifetime with you. I know exactly what you’d say “you’ll never stop wearing my socks”

You’re probably right sweetheart, I probably never will.

 

“I lift up my eyes to the hills. From where does my help come? My help comes from the Lord , who made heaven and earth”

2 thoughts on “Saturday, Socks, Scrambled eggs.

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