He’s the strong, silent type.
He doesn’t wear his heart on his sleeve, but I always know where he stands.
He’s calm and reassuring, even when the storm shakes him to his core.
He takes care of me-not just physically, but my heart, too.
He allows me to talk when I feel like talking, but he holds me in the silence when there are no words.
He makes decisions and takes care of things I cannot handle.
He lovingly has met all my needs to the best of his ability.
He is my buffer, and my guard.
He keeps me grounded in our faith.
He has brought me anything he thought might ease my pain and not judged me for it.
He has never demanded I move on or told me how or when to heal but has allowed me to work through my own heart.
His strength has carried me through and allowed me to be vulnerable.
Even though he is in pain, he has not let it overtake him so that he can be there for me.
I’m thankful for his strong arms and enveloping hugs that make me feel secure.
For his quiet way of sacrificial living and loving and supporting and giving.
I could not have made it this far without him-my husband, my soul-mate, my friend.