How Robert waited until he heard me stirring in the morning to ask what’s for breakfast … our favorite meal of the day.
How he thoughtfully brought me an ice cold Big Red to drink in the car when I got out of the hospital after my surgery in 1991.
How he spent the next three weeks doing just about everything for me (that I would let him, fiercely independent as I was and still am).
How he walked three miles in the pouring rain in shin deep water in 1996 to rescue me and my flooded out 300ZX.
How he decided it was time for me, at the ripe old age of 35, to finally see the ocean, even if it meant I’d bitch about the heat and the sand in my shoes.
How he snuck around and saved to buy me an art print he saw me admiring and even had it custom framed for me for my birthday one year. (I still have that print; it’s hanging over the mantle).
How he always liked to sing in the shower.
How he left a mess of soapy puddles and soggy towels after every bath.
How handsome he looked with shaving cream on his face.
How his dimples made him look 12 years old.
How the middle toes on both feet were longer than normal which is why he never liked wearing sandals.
How we each have a mole on the exact same spot on our bodies: the inside of the right wrist.
How ridiculous he looked when he, at the heaviest he’s ever been, decided to perm his prematurely gray hair. (If I didn’t leave him then, I never would.)
How he liked his eggs over medium with salt and salsa.
How he hated cabbage but loved brussels sprouts.
How he could recite all the presidents of the United States, in order, forward or backward.
How he knew me inside and out, even better than I knew myself.
How after 31 years together he knew exactly what to say to make me smile.
How after 31 years together he knew exactly what to say to make me cry.
How he always kicked my ass at backgammon.
How big a hole he left in my heart.