I'm sorry for having surgery. I'm sorry that you couldn't be here and were so distraught and that you suffered. I'm sorry that I didn't give you time to say what you needed when I left the room and that I was nonchalant about all of it. I'm sorry that I didn't know until that very morning just how much you were scared of surgery in general. I'm sorry that you have to relive those horrible feelings every night and I wish there was something that I could do to help you drift off to sleep peacefully. I'm sorry that I underestimated how very much any of this would have affected you. You know I never would have ignored your input had you given it - I'm sorry I didn't ask you how you felt. I'm sorry that I didn't want to pursue the other options and never explained in full to you why I didn't want them. I'm sorry you had to worry about me not waking up - I would have been just as scared if it had been you, so I do understand at least that part of all of it. However, I'm not sorry that I make jokes or laugh about some of the more unpleasant aspects of life. It's part of who I am to do that. It's part of why you love me and how I'm able to be happy in the face of adversity.
Thank you for loving me so much. I could never be mad at you for that. Ever.
Less than three.
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