I realized that his willingness to witness my suffering had changed it somehow. He held what he saw and was never repulsed by it. He didn’t attempt to evade it, but he also didn’t intrude on the parts that were wholly mine. Because he understood there were parts I was possessive of, accepted that while I wanted him to know what I felt, I also needed him to know my pain was unique to me. Not all of it could be shared.
