Perfection

I have read a few times over the last few weeks about the importance of not putting your deceased partner on a pedestal. People saying that it puts unrealistic expectations on your children, and future partners, for them to achieve the same status as the lost loved one. I’m not entirely sure how I feel about this notion, as after all, my blog name is ‘Widow of a perfect man’.

Jason was perfect. Perfect for me.

His imperfections made him my perfect match. His incapabilities around picking his own washing up off the floor made him perfectly annoying so that I knew he was human. His insistence on listening to terrible TERRIBLE noise gave me the perfect opportunity to educate him in good music. His cut nails on the sofa, his dirty spoon next to the kettle, and his muddy footprints through the house gave me the perfect leeway against my own imperfections.

We worked perfectly together. Our opposites complimented each other, we both had different strengths, and I am no stranger to remembering his weaknesses and admitting my own.

My children will not see him as a tidy, genius, drop dead gorgeous Adonis, who never did wrong. They will know the realities of the shitty tattoos, the sticky out ears and the fact he often mixed two sayings up together, meaning they made no sense at all. They are what made him perfect!

He was hilariously funny and had a contagious smile. His heart had enough kindness and love for us all. That is perfection to me.