I’ve seen a man throw up, walk into walls and stumble his ass into bed.
I’ve seen him refuse to go to the doctor’s, for the simplest thing, to the point it drives a person insane.
I’ve seen him acting like a total baby over every cold, allergy season, and when he’s watching the Superbowl.
I’ve seen him hold his first child in his arms and seen the wonder in his eyes when that baby grabs his finger.
I’ve watched him teach this child a billion things, from fishing to shaving.
We have been richer and poorer, we have been better and worse.
If I was married fifty years, I would want him to have a charming and adorable sense of humour. I would want him to comfort me, and make me feel safe. I would make him feel needed, I would make sure that he knew he was the most important person in my life. More than my children, more than my parents, my man is first.
If I was married fifty years, I’m close to burying my husband or he is about to bury me.
About friggin time too.