"I miss you," she says leaning back from our dinner plate
We've made it through the meal, Che's playing games in the Living Room floor and Sarah's trying to share as much as she can before I fade out.
Her words hover in the air as I realize I've reached the tipping point and am too tired to simply sit.
I see the disappointment, hurt and loss in my wife's eyes as she steadies herself to finish the night alone.
"Sit on the sofa," she softly says now having to do the work of two, robbing any leisure from her evening.
Stumbling to the sofa I collapse beside our 6 year old daughter who lays her head on my shoulder.
"You okay Da?" she softly asks while continuing to decorate a castle on her IPad.
"Yep," I answer with as much energy as I can muster.
My body feels as I'm laying in a tub of wet cement.
I'm so cold.
"Do you want to help put Che to bed?" Sarah loveningly asks, waking me, sleeping alone, "or do you need me to do it?"
I sleepwalk through the motions until I comprehend something's not right.
Che's hugging me tightly, one arm continuously rubbing my back, as she sits on her knees still in bed.
Every night she leaps from her bed into my arms and we laugh until I can't hold her anymore, then I tuck her in and kiss her goodnight.
Not tonight.
She knows things are wrong.
Sarah's already prepared the bed for me to collapse into which I immediately do.
"Did you feel me hold your hand?" she'd asked earlier in the day. "Last night in bed?"
I don't remember.
"You squeezed back," she says with moist eyes and a crack in her voice.
I can feel the memory of her hand in mine but am not sure if it was last night or is now.
I'm so cold.
Sarah covers me with blankets and I dream she kisses me on the forehead.
Her words hover in the air as I realize I've reached the tipping point and am too tired to simply sit.
I see the disappointment, hurt and loss in my wife's eyes as she steadies herself to finish the night alone.
"Sit on the sofa," she softly says now having to do the work of two, robbing any leisure from her evening.
Stumbling to the sofa I collapse beside our 6 year old daughter who lays her head on my shoulder.
"You okay Da?" she softly asks while continuing to decorate a castle on her IPad.
"Yep," I answer with as much energy as I can muster.
My body feels as I'm laying in a tub of wet cement.
I'm so cold.
"Do you want to help put Che to bed?" Sarah loveningly asks, waking me, sleeping alone, "or do you need me to do it?"
I sleepwalk through the motions until I comprehend something's not right.
Che's hugging me tightly, one arm continuously rubbing my back, as she sits on her knees still in bed.
Every night she leaps from her bed into my arms and we laugh until I can't hold her anymore, then I tuck her in and kiss her goodnight.
Not tonight.
She knows things are wrong.
Sarah's already prepared the bed for me to collapse into which I immediately do.
"Did you feel me hold your hand?" she'd asked earlier in the day. "Last night in bed?"
I don't remember.
"You squeezed back," she says with moist eyes and a crack in her voice.
I can feel the memory of her hand in mine but am not sure if it was last night or is now.
I'm so cold.
Sarah covers me with blankets and I dream she kisses me on the forehead.
