Different Kind of Pain

Some of you know my Lion because of me. Some of you know me because of my Lion. Others only know Him as my Sir. He’s an amazing man, a devoted father, a wonderful Sir, and I adore Him beyond all reason.

He was given horrible news last night – it’s His story to tell, and I won’t violate His privacy – but it devastated Him.

He called me, shared the news, and I cried for Him. He ended the call quickly – I both hated it and understood. And then I did something that I haven’t done in a long time. I prayed.

I’m one of the least religious people I know. I was raised with an overly healthy skepticism of organized religion. I respect other people’s views, even when I don’t quite understand, and only hope that others will respect mine. I consider religion and spirituality extremely personal and private. It’s not something you’ll catch me talking about too often. I don’t know who or what I prayed to last night, but I sobbed and prayed.

“Please, if you can’t make a miracle happen. If you can’t fix this, please just make him strong enough to endure it. Help him cope. Help him. Please. Please.”

I’ve begged for things before – mostly from my Sir. I have a better understanding of it now. This was abject begging. I would have given anything, done anything to know that He was happy again. I cried myself to sleep, still begging and pleading to I-don’t-know-who.

He once told me that knowing I was unhappy and that He was unable to fix it made Him feel helpless. I understand now. I cried last night – not for me, nothing happened to me except that plans will have to change somewhat. I cried for Him. Knowing He hurt, ached with sadness and nothing could be done to alleviate it. No magic words, nothing I possessed could help Him.

This morning, I felt certain He wouldn’t feel like talking – even to His pretty pet – and I knew He would keep Himself busy. I decided I would reach out to Him every time I thought of Him. An “I love you,” a kiss, a hug, whatever I could put into words and send Him, I would do it. It was cold comfort, I’m sure, but it was all I had. I learned I think about Him a lot – I finally had to slow down and limit myself to one text message an hour.

He called me around mid-morning. Hearing His voice, a little strained, very tired, and clearly worried, but still Him, made me smile. When I managed to get Him to growl in my ear (a little sass will do that sometimes), I knew that, eventually, He would be okay.

He and I are cut from the same cloth on a lot of things. This is one of them. He feels what He feels, but life continues. You have to put one foot in front of the other and keep going.

I just wish I was by His side each step of the way.