I marvel at the compassion my love has for me. He never complains about how needy I must seem, and is a beautiful companion – nursing me when I am sore. He lets me sleep the pain off, and cooks dinner when I need to elevate my legs. He doesn’t complain when my clothes make his oily or when I ask him to shave because his bristles hurt my face. My favourite place is inside his hug.
I was reading Michelle’s post about love and illness. She writes of how her husband cares for her in the height of illness. She describes love as “a steady, gentle presence in the midst of pain and illness.” And that is so true. While Michelle’s illness and mine differ in symptoms and severity, I understand what she writes. Adam shows his love through the occasional present, but it’s the supportive gestures that mean the most. When he hugs me gently asking if I am sore, when he holds my hand during a blood test, or kissing me on the face before I’ve put my face on. They are the best times.
Every night before bed, I bang the pillow on the mattress, shaking the skin out of the bed and telling my fiancé, “I bet you never thought loving someone could be so complicated”. Some people affected by Ichthyosis say their loved ones call it fairy or angel dust. Such a nice thought.
We are at a hotel now. I’ve changed into new pyjamas and am under the luxury covers of the hotel bed – my skin very sore after a day out and a shower. He doesn’t seem to mind that we are just resting tonight, reading magazines, eating cheese and wandering down to the cafe later. It’s lovely being this content.
Happy Valentine’s Day, my love. I am so glad we met.