And there was nothing I could do to stop it.
That helplessness… it broke me every single day.But I couldn’t fall apart.
Not in front of him.
Not in front of the children.
So I held myself together.
For him.
For Lucas.
For Emma.
Taking care of someone who was dying… especially when that someone was your husband… was something no one could ever truly prepare you for.
It wasn’t just physical…it was emotional, mental, constant, and relentless.
I saw it in my reflection some days—the exhaustion etched into my face, the way my eyes had lost their brightness, the dark circles that refused to fade no matter how much I tried to rest.
I had become hyper-aware of everything when it came to Cole.
Every movement.
Every breath.
Every win, no matter how small.
I made sure he had everything he needed from the moment I woke up to the moment I fell asleep.
And even then… it never felt like enough.
There were not enough hours in the day.Not enough time.
I created schedules—meticulously planned, carefully balanced—trying to make sure I could be everything all at once.
A wife.
A mother.
A caregiver.
A business owner.
I refused to let anything fall apart.
Not when so much already was.
But there were moments…moments when I couldn’t hold it in anymore.When the weight of everything pressed down too hard.I would lock myself in the bathroom, turn on the tap just enough to mask the sound, and let it all out.
I cried.
I broke.
I cursed.
I asked questions I knew had no answers.Why him?Why now?Why us?
