Since I made the appointment with the counselor two weeks ago, I've cried only once. I suppose this is like when you schedule a haircut, prompting your hair to look as cute as possible.
The last bout of tears was when we were driving to see Ken in the hospital. Gary was relating how Ken refused to "let" his wife call 911, and I said "Don't be that stubborn." I meant, "Don't be that stubborn when you are 92 and get pneumonia," but Gary thought it was just a random comment his present attitude, and set into me. A simple miscommunication, but somehow it turned into a big deal. Since then, he's been a cuddly bear.
I think the real issue is that both of us fear losing the other, because it's obvious now that it'll happen someday. I lost Mom, he was at risk of losing his Dad. Maybe we're both just suffering from the pressure of loss that we don't speak about.
Secrets. Hate them. Especially secrets I keep from myself.