A Valentine's poem for my husband. 15683U, Rog.
Thank you anyway.
I am not always easy to love.
Thank you for loving me anyway.
I don't always say or do the right things.
In fact, I often say or do the wrong things,
or the not-exactly-right things.
Thank you for forgiving me anyway.
I don't always react to situations appropriately.
I sometimes cry, scream, throw things,
or any number of actions too embarrassing to list–
and it would be a long list.
Thank you for showing patience with me anyway.
I don't always remember what to do,
or what methods I can use to help me recalibrate, breathe, and calm down,
in the middle of hallucinatory episodes,
extreme pain flares,
or bursts of rage that could flatten Bruce Banner.
I should remember.
It's not an infrequent occurrence,
yet I still forget in the moment.
Thank you for remembering, for me, anyway.
I know staying in the house can be boring.
I can't leave the house, or even the bedroom,
for a significant amount of time,
which means you can't, either,
if we want to spend time together.
Even though there are things you can do,
outside these walls.
Thank you for being here at home and spending time with me anyway.
I don't stay calm during basketball games,
and I have a particular type of fanaticism
that could drive anyone away
if they aren't BBN born and bred.
Thank you for not driving away after tipoff.
Thank you for loving sports.
Thank you for loving me, who loves sports.
Thank you for letting me yell at the TV anyway.
I'm not trying to paint myself as a bad wife,
though through these words,
it's easy to see my shortcomings,
even if many are a result of circumstances
I'm not trying to point out all of my flaws–
again, too long a list.
I'm also not trying to make excuses for them.
I just wanted to say,
with everything listed on this page:
Thank you for staying anyway.
I try see the bright spots among dark clouds,
but I don't always succeed.
I try to keep things positive,
not falsely so–
but with Spiritually-driven joy–
but I very often allow myself
to be dragged down by the pain,
the humanity we experience
living on this earth.
Thank you for reminding me, and showing me the light when I lose sight.
Thank you for letting me do the same for you in the times I've been able.
I'm prone to be obsessively passionate,
about many things, people, ideas, situations,
not always in a good way,
even though my intentions are usually pure
(there are unintentional exceptions, of course–again, human).
Sometimes they're misguided,
sometimes they become compulsions,
sometimes they hurt,
and sometimes they heal.
Thank you for letting me express my passions anyway.
I know I always seem to have a song,
or two, or three,
or a website,
or another form of media
I beg you to listen to, read, or watch,
almost as soon as you get home from work.
I know you're not always in the mood to listen or watch or read.
Thank you for listening, watching, and reading anyway.
I don't always do the best job
at reminding you I love you.
I say it all the time,
I try to show it through my actions,
which I feel often fall short,
but I'm not always able
to do or say the things I've planned.
Thank you for loving me anyway.
I can't wait for the day we can again go skating together,
start a family,
go to church together every Sunday and Wednesday,
enjoy a "reset honeymoon" at Disney World so we can put this period of pain and illness behind us,
when that day does come.
I long for the day I can again drive and surprise you
by showing up at the school, your workplace, with lunch,
able to enjoy a meal with you,
in a brightly lit room,
amidst the chaos,
being able to hold conversations and go into public,
without extensive emergency "just in case" preparation.
I can't wait for the day I can again hold your hand
and walk around the park,
maybe playing Pokémon Go,
maybe even running together,
or maybe just enjoying each others' company,
talking as we walk,
enjoying nature, enjoying Creation,
but most of all,
enjoying time together.
I'm neither a morning nor night person.
Yes, I have nights where I'm wide awake,
begging sleep to come,
and not having that wish granted.
Yes, when my body is well,
I tend to get up early,
waking well before any alarm,
eager to start my day.
But neither one of those terms applies
when I'm being asked what kind of person I am.
I'm not a "morning person"
I'm not a "night person"
I'm a "Roger person"
because my favorite time of day,
is the time I'm able to spend with you.
I hope you know that.
I hope I've made that clear,
through the years,
even with the arguments we have,
which all couples have,
but which sometimes seem
to occur more frequently,
due to our circumstances.
Even amidst the trials and struggles,
I hope you know you are my favorite time of day.
You are my favorite ValenTIME.
Yep, I just did that. <3