It wasn't because he didn't deserve more, he just never asked for it.
And it wasn't because he did something wrong, but because I was not thinking straight.
It wasn't because he hurt me, it was because I was scared.
It wasn't because he wasn't there for me, but because I felt alone in my desire, and thus, my grief.
It wasn't because he isn't a good man, but because I am a scarred woman.
It certainly isn't because he's not the best husband ever, but because am not yet the best wife there is.
It wasn't because there were some things he didn't do, but because there were a lot I leave for him to do.
And it wasn't because he's not being a man, but because I was being a child.
He could have resented my tears. He could have dismissed my fears. He could have taken my issues personally. But he didn't. He was loving and gentle and giving as always.
So forgive me if I feel that thirty-two years ago, he was really born for me. Sounds selfish, I know, but if it was another man, I may be a less loved woman right now. But i'm not. I know i'm not because my husband reminds me everyday that I am loved... by him.
Love you, Baby. Belated happy birthday.