Failing

In two days, Bo goes into surgery.

My stomach is so tore up, I’m having to mentally tell it to not toss my dinner. Of course there is option B, which well ha ha my tummy has a since of humor.  Screw you tummy.

I should be helping him stay calm and feel better about the surgery. I should be helping him be at ease and keeping his mind off of it. But no I’m sitting here trying to be still because if I don’t, everything is coming out. He’s shaken by this, as anyone would be, he needs me, and all I’ve got is I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I can’t be strong for you. I’m sorry I am not normal and can’t suck it up, and not let you know how so very afraid I am. I’m so sorry.

Tonight I want nothing better than to be held by him. To hold him as close as I can. To breath him in. To forget what happens on Wednesday…or what could happen.