His skin was thick from years and years of work, work with his hands, carpentry. We sat, hand in hand, not talking, just sitting and being together. My head was rested on his shoulder. “I want to sit here forever.” I pleaded knowing it couldn’t be.
He smiled and squeezed my hand softly, “You know that I am always here for you.”
“I know, but can we just stay here forever? Don’t make me ever get up.” Even in the middle of it happening, it was hard for me to ever give up the moment.
He took his other hand and rubbed my cheek. His hand. I held his right hand in my two hands, rubbing it gently. He was everything, everything to me. “Why? Why did you have to do it?”
“For you.” I knew the answer. He had saved me, but it still hurt that he had to go through it.
His hand. I sat rubbing his hand as tears began to fall down my cheeks. I stared at his hand, holding it on one of my hands and then I slowly took my other hand and rubbed his hand. I rubbed his finger tips and then I rubbed his palm, and I rubbed his wrist. I rubbed his scar. I turned his hand over and I rubbed the other side of his scar. Of course it traveled through the skin. The thought of his pain sent a sickening feeling to my stomach. “I’m sorry.”
He turned and faced me, cupping my two cheeks in his hands. “I would do it all over again for you. I love you.”
Staring into his loving eyes, he was everything, everything to me, “I love you Jesus.”