I used to worry sometimes. Not worry. I used to notice that I had a very peaceful life. No real strife, or drama. My kids were healthy and growing – they might have fought or squabbled or sobbed, but that’s normal. My marriage was peaceful, with a man that I loved. We never had a lot of money, and our house was always sort of a disaster, but life was easy.
The past nine months haven’t been easy. The past six months have been hell.
I’m still afraid to count on it, like at any moment, something new and horrible is going to happen. The reality is that Sam is getting better. He’s not all the way there yet, and we’re going to be dealing with the ramifications of the vision loss for a long time. But he can eat (white rice with ketchup, croutons and salad dressing, and KFC), and just that, having solid food in his system had made such a difference for him. He’s happier, he’s hugging us spontaneously. He’s getting better.
It’s true – you know who your true friends are when things are hard. Even more true, is that you learn how strong your marriage is when everything is falling apart. It’s not that I love him more now, it’s not that I trust him more. It’s that I’m so grateful to have had him at my side. I’m so grateful that my children have him, that he snuggled and cared for our girls when I was taking care of our boy.
I know that he shares my fears and my hopes. My worries over whether or not the vision will come back, or what it’ll mean for him to not ever regain it. He’s my partner, my other half.
Today, I celebrate my husband, my buddy, my love. The best and brightest part of my life, the reason that I know that we’ll get thru the worst that life can throw our way. Happy birthday Marc – I couldn’t have made it thru the last six months without you.