Wednesday, April 29, 2015

Nine Years

Nine years ago today at 2:00 PM, in a Starbucks in Dedham, MA, I met the love of my life. Three hours later, while still sitting in Starbucks, we planned our next date which was the following day to see the movie, Silent Hill. One thing we discovered during those three hours was a shared love of horror movies. And thus began our love story.

Nine years later and I am so thankful for this love, my best friend, my partner in life. What amazes me still is his strength and support. This past year has been hell for me but it has also been hell for him. His support has been unwavering and yet he witnessed his love and best friend endure a terrible illness. I imagine there were times when he felt helpless and alone. But he was and is always there: through countless medication trials, through hospitalizations, through ECT and when I come home from a tough therapy session and hide deep inside myself. He is there ready to share his strength and love to support me.

When life was going well enough, prior to my illness, I fear we may have taken this love for granted. This past year, however, has taught me what love really is, how it feels, how it tastes, how it sounds. I am able to live life with my love and best friend and this is a blessing that rightly revealed itself as a consequence of my illness. I knew I was blessed with him but experiencing something so horrid and personal created a real understanding of this blessing. I am brimming with love, still in awe of how it is possible but quietly thankful that I am lucky enough to experience it.

I am so happy to celebrate this anniversary. It is another milestone that deserves attention.

Happy 9th anniversary of our first meeting, my love, my best friend and partner in life.

Tuesday, April 21, 2015

Good Night

It was quiet, with the exception of the white noise and the lullabies in the background. I lay next to her to stroke her back. It had already been ninety minutes of calling, "daddy...mommy." We took turns going up to try to calm her and encourage the sleep that was needed. As I scratched her back, her eyes grew heavy, yet they would not close. I thought to myself what a wonderful moment it was, to be with her in the quiet and calm of the night. There was safety and security with her during those moments, smelling her strawberry shampoo on her still wet head and feeling her soft skin. It was a moment between mother and daughter that was full of meaning while no words were spoken. Her heavy eyes would look at mine and there was a shared communication between us. It was about love and care and we both understood. We both felt it and savored it.

After several minutes of quiet communication, I let go, literally and figuratively. I left her, with her sleepy eyes and strawberry scent. She continued to hold onto my love just as I held on to hers as I left her room.

And then, there was quiet.