Dear Shane,

I often wonder how you do it.


Before you moved in with us, you were free to go about your business…to work…to eat…to sleep…to play.


Then you took on the responsibility of not just being a partner, but also a stepfather to my five children.


I often wonder how you do it.


When things seemed like they had finally settled in from the move, you asked me to marry you and be your wife. “Yes” was too small of a word, but the only one I could manage through my tears of joy.


Now you had been cast into the role of a wedding planner, to boot!!


I often wonder how you do it.


Then my life changed. By extension, so did yours. And yet through your fear, your confusion, your emotions, you felt it was more important that I understand that you weren’t going to leave.


You have since started a blog (http://lwswlwl.longship.ca) to help others understand what it’s like to live with someone like me….someone with “chronic illness”…someone struggling just to brush her teeth in the morning that I often forgo in the hopes that scarfing down an apple at a later point in time will take care of it for me….


I often wonder how you do it.


When I am hurting so badly that all I can do is use the rest of my spoons to sob sorrowful tears into your chest while you wrap your loving arms around me and kiss the top of my head.


When I can’t go 2 minutes without sounding like either a drama queen or boot camp instructor, you still ask me how you can help me. Sometimes I feel (okay, seriously…most of the time) that you shouldn’t have to…one of the hardest emotions I deal with is a feeling of loss….the loss of the life I worked my goddamned ass of for before all of this was thrown at me, and unfairly, by extension, yourself…and for all the changes I’m having to make along the way…changes that YOU are willing to sacrifice for, if it means in any small way that it will help me and our family.


I often wonder how you do it.


Words fail to describe my appreciation for you. I want to scream it as loudly as my inflammed body will permit.


Just know this: “Love is a flickering flame that dances to the music we cannot hear.”


No matter if my body is lying crippled with pain, my love for you will ALWAYS be dancing.


Love Always,

Brynn

One response to “Dear Shane,

  1. Reading this through the blurred vision due to the tears in my eyes, I have only this to say.

    You are worth every moment of every day.

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