After 31 Years of Marriage, My Husband Started Leaving Our Bed at Night ‘Because of His Back’ – Then I Heard Him Whisper, ‘Daddy Loves You Too’
I’d called it success. Maybe I’d answered a different question.
I’d called it success.
“After Emma moved out,” Greg said, “you said you finally remembered what it felt like to wake up because you were finished sleeping.”
My smile faded.
I barely remembered saying it.
“I thought you were happy,” he said.
“I was,” I admitted.
“Exactly.”
“I thought you were happy.”
And suddenly I understood why he’d hidden six months of volunteering from me.
Not because he thought I’d be angry about the kittens.
Because he thought I’d think something about him.
“What did you think I’d say?”
Greg shifted Susan higher against his chest.
“I don’t know.”
I understood why he’d hidden six months of volunteering from me.
“That’s not true.”
He looked away.
I waited.
Finally, he said, “I thought you’d think it was pathetic.”
I stared at him.
“Missing the kids?”
He shook his head. “Missing being needed.”
I sat beside him.
“Greg, missing that doesn’t mean you want Michael and Emma to be children again.”
“I thought you’d think it was pathetic.”
He nodded.
“Do you?” I asked.
He looked almost offended.
“God, no. Michael once put a Lego in the toaster.”
That made me laugh.
Then Greg’s face softened.
“I just miss being the person somebody called when the dark felt too big.”
“God, no. Michael once put a Lego in the toaster.”
I thought of how often I’d answered him with logic. The children were independent and happy. That was what we’d raised them for. All true.
I just hadn’t realized he could be proud of that and still miss what came before it.
Still, I pointed toward the guest bed.
