Yesterday I went to see a new client in Epsom, Surrey. On my way back I drove through Ashtead and remembered that my old boss that I worked for when I was 19 lived there… for some bizarre reason I could remember his address.
Via the joys of a SatNav I could see I was only 4 minutes away, I had no idea if he still lived there but I took the chance, knocked on his door and to my surprise there he was.
What a great 2 hours we spent catching up with our families.
Now the thing is this. I really enjoyed catching up with Michael, he had a wayward son when I worked for him and I used to get stories of his exploits. He also had new born twin grandchildren, so again I used to get stories of all that twins get up to.
I used to come home and share all this fun stuff with Claire, and I know that if I’d been able to share what became of those kids and stories with Claire yesterday we’d have been talking for ages.
Yesterday I felt myself bursting with little stories to share with her. What the twins are doing now, what became of the wayward son, and more.
But I came home to nothing.
For the first time I had some stories to share and no-one to share them with. Even telling them to my Mum later last night wasn’t the same as she didn’t get all the original exploits 20 years ago. Claire did. Claire knows the full story and could have referred back to “do you remember the time when….”.
I guess that’s just part of what I need to let go of. She was the only person in the world that knew so much about me and my life which made those conversations so easy.
It’s the interaction with Claire I miss. The deep, deep knowledge of understanding about every facet of our lives that being with someone for 28 years brings.
I’ve nothing more to add, other than I truly am missing her today.