And I do. I miss my big, strong man. I miss the intimacy.
The illeostomy, the second stoma, the real change in his body image, means he doesn't touch me now other than in that long distance, holding hands thing. No more big hugs, no more lying together, draped around each other, Just no more the skin contact: the ease, the comfort with each others' bodies, is just gone. Nobody talks about this at all. Or maybe it's just me. Maybe I'm the only one in the world who has lost the love of her life, long before death takes him. I miss you.
