This house is so full of love, and the worst part is that it just keeps spilling out in tears. Every piece of this home is us - there is no me, there is no him, it is just us, always us. The couch is us, the colors on the walls are us, the shampoo is us, the pictures are us, the drawer knobs are us, the music playing in the background is us - our family, our sanctuary, our place to be together.
But I am not very happy with part of us right now - the part that is supposed to be strong for the part who is sick. One of us is a quietly hysterical mess, 90% of the time.
It's not an exaggeration. I just keep praying that both of us can be strong.
It's why I can't write much right now. We have a full week of appointments and consultations, but until then, until we know what "us" is facing, everything - even the drawer knobs - hurts.