Someone said to me the other day, “It’s not only the loss of someone you love, but the loss of someone who loved you.” Boy did that his home. It’s true. No matter who I am with, no matter what we are doing, even if I am laughing with friends or family, I’m alone. There was no one in the world who loved me like he did. And I knew it. Even my own children, who I know love me dearly and need me immensely, don’t love me as much as Bobby did. I would venture to say that even my mother (and father when he was alive) don’t love me as much as Bobby did. He had a way of making me feel special, like I was not just some regular person on the street.
There are so many things that you do with your spouse that defines the specialness of the relationship. How many times have you been at a party, talking to one group of people and your spouse is across the room, talking to a different group, and you can catch each other's eyes and know exactly what they are thinking? Or you finished each other sentences? That is a unique relationship, one that only comes with loving and living with someone for an extended period of time in a committed relationship.
I went out to dinner the other night with a friend of mine and my children. Her husband called to say he would be joining us in about ½ hour. So she suggested we all get appetizers while we waited for him. Then when we ordered dinner, she ordered for him without consulting him so that his meal would be ready at the same time ours were. That, to me, is a symbol of that connectedness that only two people who are committed to and love each other have. I thought about it as she was ordering, and I knew exactly what was on that menu that I would have ordered for Bobby had I been in her shoes.
It breaks my heart to know that I will never have these special times again. It’s really hard to accept that I am no longer “that special someone” to somebody else. That there is nobody out there that looks forward to seeing me at the end of the day. That there is no longer anyone kissing me goodnight. It's lonely and it really hurts.