"Come here."
"No, I'm oh— "
"No, come here. … You're not a burden to me. I didn't think you were coming out."
"Out of what?"
"Of the hospital. I didn't think you were coming home. So I want you as close to me as possible."
I shuffle over to the couch, sniffling, and lay my head on his chest. I cry silently so my children aren't worried. He hugs me in, and soon the pain passes, as though he absorbed it.
>>>>***<<<<
This morning, as my nine-year-old cried, I realized I need to say the same thing to her. She's dramatic naturally, but I need to treat her emotions as entirely legitimate anyway. She mustn't be seen as a burden to me. I must absorb her pain. And with a husband so persevering and authentic, I just might find the fortitude to be the same for my kids.
