He's seen her tears and heard her sobs. He watched her lay in bed, unable to get up. He saw her close the door on the world, wanting to hide inside of herself, but forcing her way through each day anyway. And he held her. Everyday. He held her until the pain went away, until she could breathe again, live again. But he never forgot. He couldn't forget what it was like to watch his vibrant wife wither away, barely able to care for the children, completely unable to care for herself.
Summer came and the energy came back and her lungs breathed deeply taking in the fresh air of newly cut grass and fragrant flowers. The sun shone brightly waking her up to joy. But he didn't forget. He watched her closely, her every move, for any sign of that dark mood that easily overtakes her spirit.
Autumn came, and he knew. He knew that her spirits would become as fragile as the leaves that shriveled on the trees and blew to the ground at the first strong wind. So he watched closely; he watched for the signs of despair. When he saw a book on the kitchen counter with the word "sadness" in the title, he immediately confronted her, asking her why she was reading that book, thinking that she was dwelling on despair, clinging to sadness, unaware that it was a fictional story that had nothing to do with her emotions. Relief filled his eyes with her explanation.
But she knows. She knows that wherever the seasons may take her, whether it's to the heights of joy or the depths of despair, he will always look out for her, always love her and always hold her until she can stand on her own once again. He is her stronghold sent from God and entwined through marriage, to care for her and to carry her when she becomes too weak to stand on her own.
