You’re always there, you never let me down.
When I feel used and spit back out, your presence comforts me.
It draws me out of my pain; up from down; in from out.
It elevates me and makes me a better woman and a better human when you simply listen to me.
Because you held me when I shed all of those tears that I just needed to shed in front of a man. I always had my mother, but I never had my father. I’m comfortable opening up amongst women, but I’ve never had many platonic male friendships,
You knew that about me. And since you’d done your own therapy and self-reflection, you were the first man who brought emotional weight and awareness to the bed and table.
I ended up winning the lottery when I met you. I knew it when you let me cry in your presence.
The first time we met, you let me cry.
It didn’t scare you off. You were man enough to handle it. You knew that women cry sometimes. You knew that little girls who were told to stop crying still cried on the inside.
And still needed to be comforted.
Even when they found themselves in a grown woman’s body. They still need to be comforted.
For what felt like the first time for me, you loved me first. You somehow knew I needed that. That for this final go-around, I needed that.
That I needed to be courted and treasured; that just once, I needed to feel like a princess.
I needed to be one person’s “one person.” One person’s Greatest Love; First Choice; Deepest Bond.
Since I was always a second wife, you stepped up and loved me with an Adult Love.
The way a Grown Man loves his Greatest Treasure.
Only your criteria for what defined a “treasure” (a “gem”) was different than most men’s criteria: you complimented me on my physical attributes, but your love wasn’t skin-deep. You had eyes that saw me at my best; at my most radiant.
You loved The Lover in me, The Fighter in me, The Child in me, The Woman in me, and The Mother in me to (you told me that my 3 pregnancies made me a mother and that one day, I would be reunited with my children).
You also loved the Daughter in me, the Friend in me, the Cheerleader (with official cheerleading outfit) in me, and the Soul Mate in me.
You said it didn’t matter that we were meeting late in life; that a few years of what we had cancelled out any prior misery.
You said we could still redeem and restore each other, even if we only have a few years.
Your love enhanced me rather than diminished me; it radiated rather than obscured me; grabbed me close rather than pushed me away.
I had already done most of my mourning, so I was free to love you from a better place. But your love and acceptance energized and catalyzed me in a way I deemed impossible (at least for me).
You did all this by simply being there and staying there. When I woke you up in the middle because I had to talk to you, you didn’t mind.
Our love was also a laughter kind of love. I’m forever grateful you brought laughter back and presented it to me in a robin’s egg blue Tiffany box.
I don’t think I laughed that much in all of the preceding years combined.
You let me be all of the things I needed to be when I needed to be them.
You never shamed or judged me. You accepted me. Welcomed me. Desired me. Just me and Only me. You wanted No One But Me. Ever again.
You said I was more than enough. That even if we only had five years together, that would be enough.
That we could die happy and fulfilled.
I had been lost, and you were my Lighthouse. My Horizon Line.
Thank you for Loving Me First.
Because you did, I was able to love you from my purest, unfiltered place. From my reserves. I went to my wine cellar and brought out my best and most expensive Cabernet for you. I carved, scraped, toiled and mined to find my Ruby-Sapphire love for you.
Rubies for passion and sapphires for loyalty. All for you.
My purest, most extreme, and most terrifying (for me) private love, I gave to you. Loving you made me a better human being and a better spiritual being.
From your core:
You loved me first.