The History Of You And Me

February 2018.

There's a heart-wrenching feeling of witnessing someone you love go through the lowest, most hardest time of their life.

You feel helpless.

You want to somehow take all that pain away from them but you know that you can't. No matter what you do or say, you can never make it disappear, and the realization in itself is heartbreaking.

Olli's mother died.

Even though this was expected, it doesn't make it any easier.

Olli is a pretty emotional man, which is one of the many things I love about him. He pours his heart out and you never feel the need to read him because he's an open book.

But now he's barely said a word. I've never seen him this way before.

I remember when I'd found out about my sister's passing. It was late at night and I'd been in bed when I'd heard my mother practically screaming from downstairs.

It was the strangest thing to say the very least.
My whole life she was always so poise, never showing too much of any emotion. Never too sad or too happy. Always neutral.

But that night I'd barely recognized the woman that raised me. She laid on the floor and cried her heart out as dad held on to her for dear life.

It was also the first time I'd seen dad shed a tear in my whole lifetime of knowing him.

The entire sight was devastating.

Nobody told me anything, they didn't have to. It was written all over their faces. But beyond that,

Mimi had been going through the lowest possible time in her life and as hurt as I was, I wasn't very shocked.

I'd thought she would've committed suicide a lot earlier on if I'm being honest, she was really going downhill. Hearing that she'd actually died in an accident tore my whole world apart.

What if she was working on becoming better for herself? and she never got a chance to do that because her life was sadly taken from her.

Point is, I know loss. But even my experience feels pretty miniature compared to his.

"Hey..."
I say to Olli's sleepy form sweetly when I see him making his way to the kitchen where I'm making dinner.

He doesn't say anything. He instead attempts to smile at me but fails.

"I made mash potatoes and steak, your favorite."
I say dishing out his plate and then putting it in front of him on the kitchen island.

He hasn't been eating and I'm desperate for him to try this time around, that's why I made him his favorite.

I give a shy smile when I see him pick up a fork to play around with the food. A day ago he couldn't even look at food, this is progress.

It's been about two days since we were given the news. We both took some days off from work and we've been in bed for the majority of it.

Well, he spends most of the time in bed and I cuddle him every chance that I get.

It's been heart-shattering seeing him this way. He's always known how to make me feel better no matter what and I feel like I'm failing him. I feel like there's more I should be doing beyond simply being there for him.