The night before the hospital bed arrived, I slept as close as I could to my Brawny Man, gently caressing the bones that now protrude from his once virile body. I barely slept as I cried all night, knowing it was the last night that I would sleep next to my husband in our bed. There are no words to express the feeling; imagine despair and emptiness. I wanted to make it right in my mind, yet by sunrise, my brain had still not accepted reality. I cannot fix this, not even in my mind. If God were not holding me up right now, I would be flat on the floor, sinking through the cracks.
God is near.
God is good.
I am selfish and I want the years we thought we still had.
I am not angry.
I am not depressed.
I am broken and in need of Grace.