When my husband came in, I took one look at him and dumped all my shit onto him. He hadn't even gotten all the way in the door or put his things down. He hadn't taken off his hat or put down his wallet and keys. Yet he stood in the kitchen while I threw things into the dishwasher and listened to me vent about my very bad day. He stood patiently, moving around only to put his things down. Rather than sitting down after a 12 hour shift he stood listening.
When I lost it and resumed the water works, he was right there to make me feel like I wasn't alone... I started to say to "make me feel better" but that's not really it. He didn't try to make me feel better or discount my feelings. He was there to listen and let me know that someone hears me, that he hears me.
Rather than turning on the TV or requesting to know when dinner would be made, he sat beside me in the living room all evening and talked with me about the things that're making it difficult for me. He listened as I told him my fears, concerns, and feelings. He didn't try to tell me my feelings are invalid or that I shouldn't feel the way I do. Or even that I should feel something when all I can seem to "feel" is numb despair.
When he couldn't stay up any longer, I went to lay down with him and he held me. He told me he loves me and that he believes in me, which is all I need in the world. I need him to keep believing in me even when I don't see why anyone should. He almost always seems to know, intuitively, what I need or want and even when he doesn't know, he still tries to be supportive.
Today, I sent him a text to wish him a good day and to say thanks for being there for me. His immediate reply, "We're there for each other, that's our thing." That is how we made it 18 years married. That is how we're still going strong even after almost 20 years together. All of this, his support and love, this is why we're going to make it another twenty.
