When you discover the horrific news that your partner has been killed you find it very hard to imagine that someone so full of life, someone so healthy and happy just cannot come back.
I’d spent a lot of my relationship missing Chris, separated on opposite sides of the world, bogged down by paperwork and money, waiting for visas to be approved and taking full advantage of my holiday to Europe I had been planning for the last 5 years by taking small fortnightly trips to far flung countries.
All the while missing Chris.
In fact although I enjoyed my trips around Europe, my favourite part of the holiday was boarding the plane with the full knowledge I’d be seeing his handsome face again in a couple of hours.
The butterflies would start in my stomach as we began to land, my steps becoming more rapid until I was stalled by customs. Moving as quick as I could through the gates, bursting through with my bulky, unsteerable bag.
And there he would be.
Hands in pockets, head down, until he would look up and smile and his eyes would lock with mine. I would feel my face crack into a giant grin.
“Hello,” he’d say in his soft, always polite English voice, “How you going?”
My too-heavy bag would be easily lifted with his strong hands, both the size of dinner plates, and I would be whole again. Protected, and where I was meant to be. With Chris by my side.
… So I’m used to this constant ache. This constant need to see the person you love, but being made to wait.
But I’d always see him again.
It reminds me of a quote from the Sad Book by Michael Rosen, “I loved him very, very much, but he died anyway.”
I miss him very, very much… But he’s not coming back.