Every Little Thing...

The wrinkles in the corners of his eyes.
The way his smile filled a room.
His chuckle that was so cute and contagious, that I teased him about it.
His hands.
Scarred from years of hard work.
Gentle when he held me.
Patient when he was showing our little boy how to do something for the first time.
The way one eye was more green than the other.
His dimples that usually were hidden by facial hair.
His random decision to shave a Fu Manchu even though I hated it.
The way he wanted to look nice for me on date night.
Date nights.
At home, or out and about...didn't matter to me.
The way he would dress in a suit and go to prom with me even though he hated it.
Slow dances in the kitchen.
Sneaking up on him to listen while he was singing to our son when he was a baby.
The raspy tone in his voice.
The way he told me I was beautiful every single day.
The way that he meant it.
How tough he was.
His strength both physically and mentally.
The way he cried when no one but me was looking.
Knowing why he cried and being the only one who did know.
His dark skin tanned by the hours he worked in the sun all year.
His work ethic.
It is unmatched.
His desire to build a life for his boys.
His love of farming.
His sometimes not so friendly, passionate vernacular when dealing with cows.
His stories.
Of his Marine Corps Days, of his Grandma Holly and Grandma Mary, of his dad.
His skills of being able to literally do anything he set his mind to.
He never failed.
His determination to succeed was amazing to watch.
His ability to learn something new and be almost an expert the second time he did it.
His math skills.
His romantic side.
The way he would come up behind me and put his arms around my waist and his chin on my shoulder.
The way he would look at me and really look AT me, loving every part of me.
When he would kiss me on the back of the neck.
When he would just hold me.
Just stand there and hold me close to him and tell me over and over how lucky he was to have me.
The way we would ride around and drink a beer and listen to old music and talk and laugh and dream.
The way that he loved me for how terrible I looked just as much as how pretty I looked.
I didn't have to fix my hair or put on makeup with him.
I didn't have to be dressed to perfection when with him.
He liked my old torn, holey farm jeans and baseball cap.
How much fun I had with him.
How much he loved me.
How much he wanted me.
How much he made me feel safe and secure.
How much we dreamed just alike.
When we would lay down and start talking and end up laughing until we had to make each other shut up and go to sleep.
The way he had special nights in the living room floor on a pallet with his sons.
His surprises.
His selflessness when it came to helping someone else.
His silly side.
The "wiggle in his walk".
His lips.
His kisses.
Holding his hand.
His compliments on the house on a day I had cleaned for two hours.
His appreciation of a good meal.
His pride when he was with his family.
His one phrase he would yell at every basketball game, "Shoot the ball!"
The way he would sit with Conner and the laptop to look at cars, guns, toys, or whatever else Conner wanted to look at.

Every little thing.

That is what I miss.

I love you and miss you more than words, baby.
NFAxI... #stillhis
Love,
Veronica