I'd like to share a bit about my late partner, W.
W. was every bit an Alpha male, but of the gentle sort. He never raised his voice - or his hand - to me - or to his children. Yet I always knew when I needed to listen to what he had to say - and NOW. Perhaps it was the look in his eyes. It was definitely a certain quality to his voice that would give me pause.
Those times when I really needed to listen - and not just "yeah, yeah, whatever" - almost always had to do with my own self care. I am, for example, a workaholic. I came by it honestly, because both of my parents are/were workaholics. Perfectionists, too! So I have a tendency to stay late at work - there is always something else to do! However, when it would get late, and W. knew that I was "shuffling papers," so to speak, he would call me and say, "It's time to come home." I might balk and explain why I needed to stay a little longer, but he would insist, "No, it's time to come home NOW." And I would. The same goes for bedtime. I tend to get wrapped up in "putting my house in order." I want everything "just so" before I go to bed. But W. knew that I would be a mess in the morning if I did not get my sleep. So in the middle of yet another household task, I would feel his hand on my shoulder and his voice whispering, "It's time to go to bed now. Why don't I give you a backrub?" And I would go. He always took care of me in that way.
He was also my "calm in the storm." I could get all in a tizzy over this or that catastrophe, working myself up into a panic attack. He could find me shaking, angry, and nearly apoplectic over the smallest of slights. But all he would have to do was to sit down with me, look me square in the eye, and ask, "So what happened?" And after a few minutes of his listening, really listening, he would have the perfect response, the measured response, that I could not come up with. He was so incredibly wise!
He was the person I relied upon in so many ways. He drove at night, because my night vision is poor. Actually, he drove most of the time, because we preferred that he do so. He made me laugh - even at my oh-so-serious self.
Finally, I am a word person. I write. I talk. I live for words. But W. taught me that words mattered less than actions - and his actions were true.
I will love W. till the day I die, and I miss him every waking moment. I hope that my gentle love has finally found some measure of peace, some final haven from the torment of his mind, heart, and soul.