Deep in my soul, in my heart, in the core of who I am, there is an intense sadness. I don't know exactly what this sadness is. I imagine it is the pain that happens when I know I can't help him. I imagine it's is an accumulation of all of the times I have looked in his face and wished I could trade him places, just for a moment, just to give him a chance to see him the way I see him. I imagine I have this sadness, this ache in the core of who I am, because every fiber that makes up who I am knows that he is a good man, even if sometimes he does bad things.
I see it. I see it in his face when we talk about the pain in our life. He knows that he is the source of much of it. He knows that the fracture in our life happened when he came home and I know that he blames himself for all that we are going through.
I wish, so desparately, so fervishly, that I could make him understand that these things happen. That life happens. That what has happened to us, to our life and to him is no more his fault than it is the suns fault that the earth rotates around it. It is something that just is. It is something that we may spend a life time investigating and may still never truly understand exactly why.
I can't imagine the burden he must bear. The burden of what he has seen, what he is going through and the burden of knowing that his inner turmoil, his inner pain, is the source of much of what we are battling. What a horrible thing to have to live with.
And in my soul there is a sadness. A sadness for the burden that my husband carries each day. A sadness that I cannot shoulder that burden for him, to lighten what he must carry, even if just for a little while. It is a sadness that fills my whole body and aches in the middle of the night when I can hear him talking in his sleep, something he never did before our After. I want to reach out and comfort him, but I know that my cool hand on his face does nothing to stop what invades his dreams.
This sadness... This pain... It is the pain of a woman who looks at the man she loves and feels helpless. It is the hurt of a wife who cannot not help her husband. It is an all consuming ache because I want my love to save him, but I know that it won't.