To Mrs Bob.
I thought I was whole
because I managed to stay alive in my own skin,
because I learned how to stand without shaking,
but I was wrong.
Endurance isn’t the same thing as arrival.
I didn’t know that then.
I thought standing alone was strength,
like isolation was proof I could never break.
Like I didn’t need anyone
to catch me when the world tilted sideways.
Then you showed up.
You didn’t fix me.
You didn’t bring a cape or a toolkit,
didn’t slap a label on me that said husband upgrade
or emergency masculinity.
You just stood next to me
and suddenly,
the darkness inside me started speaking in colors.
You are not my missing piece.
You are the language
my scattered, broken pieces
finally agreed to speak.
Before you,
I loved like a man afraid to love,
hands half-open,
heart still under lock and key,
as if the good things were borrowed
and scheduled to vanish before I could say thank you.
You taught me that love doesn’t wait at the door
it kicks it open,
moves in,
makes itself at home
and brews coffee before I even wake up.
You didn’t need to interpret my silences
you understood them.
You saw the parts of me that weren’t ready for words
and never once made me feel less
for still being under construction.
You didn’t complete me
by stacking yourself on top of who I was
you completed me
by pointing out the spaces I was hiding
because I was afraid I’d disappear.
With you,
I’m louder
without ever shouting.
Softer
without apologizing.
Braver
in ways that don’t need to rattle the earth to feel real.
You look at my mess
and call it a room
we can live in.
You turn quiet mornings
into proof that joy doesn’t need a crowd—
just two people,
choosing each other,
over and over again,
like breathing.
Loving you
feels like letting go of breath I’ve held for years-
like finally exhaling and realizing I never had to hold it.
I’m still me.
You’re still you.
But together,
we make a life that finally knows how to tell the truth.
And if someone asks how my wife completes me,
I’ll say this:
She didn’t fix me.
She didn’t make me whole.
She showed me I was already whole,
and taught me how to love myself like I always was
(c)BobChristian
The Ramblings of Bob Christian 