His confessions fell upon me like rain, in sultry, heavy drops and scattered showers. I opened myself to them, swallowing them up as if in doing so I could take their burden from him, or at least shrink them down to a size that he could bear.

It was, of course, his way of asking forgiveness for what he was sure he must have done to deserve this new reality that lent him so little joy- this great test of human endurance that few among us had it in us to pass, myself included.

I could have simply said, “You didn’t do anything to deserve this, honey.” But I never did. The words swarmed in my throat like bees, but I sensed that the only one who could absolve him of his perceived sins was he, himself.

So I quietly listened, deep into those many dark nights, as he bared himself to me, wondering if this terrible punishment fit his crimes. This internal battle was his own to fight. I kept my ears and my heart open.

My role, I suppose, was only to love him, to stand by him, and to stay. In the end I only accomplished the first. As for the two latter, well, it was my own sins that ended up tearing me away, leaving him to face the demons alone.

Maybe I did what I did for a higher good, as I’d reasoned at the time. Or maybe it was to show him that his trespasses were small compared to what I was apparently capable of, and still no gods struck me down. I couldn’t really say now, to be honest. I can still walk and breathe freely, though, with an ache where my heart once lived that only his forgiveness can remedy. Cause and effect is such a funny thing, and so often hard to decipher.

From my new book in progress,
“Birth Can Be A Messy Adventure”