when the story isn't mine to write

I'm not good at faking life.

I'm just not into fake.

I find so much joy and release in just spilling my heart out and being honest.

I'm brutally honest with the people closest to me. . . but pretty honest with those who aren't, too.  I've been known to confess to my Bible Study group that I have thrown spoons in anger and I can cry with complete strangers.

Is this a personality trait or because I am a woman?

Probably some of both.

I know that writing about Gabe has been so incredibly healing for me.  It has helped me sort out my thoughts, my heart, what I still believe about God, and helped me grieve the loss of my son.

Men aren't as open.

I am always baffled by this.

Is it because they don't want to admit weakness?

Putting themselves out there and admitting doubts and fears is probably just not helpful to them.

Endless personal reflection?

Not any guys I know!

So as I watch my husband grieve and walk through steps I walked through months ago. . . my heart breaks.  I feel a little bit like you all must feel as you stand on the outside of our grief looking in, wanting to help, but not able to take away the pain.

I want to write about it; but it's  his story and not mine to write.

So I don't have a lot of words right now.

I know that Daniel has been so strong for me. . . for so long.  You can only be strong for so long. 

I tell him it's okay.

He doesn't have to be happy.

He doesn't have to be strong. 

I cry.

I physically ache to take the pain away from him, knowing that there's no way to go but through.

I tell him I believe for him like so many have believed for me

that when the road is too dark

and the way is too long

and little places where Gabe should be are too quiet

I'll still be here. . .

and we are going to hang on. . .

and I don't know what to say

but I love him.

Ahh. . . he is such a good man.

I pray that God will bring healing to his heart and that I will be a refuge for him. . .

I love him so much.