When my husband James told us to sleep in different rooms, it shook my world. The accident that killed me five years ago had already taken a lot from me. I also felt like I was losing him now.
As the nights went on, weird noises coming from his room made me even more suspicious. Was he going to leave me? Was there someone else? I felt scared by the unknown.
My worry and doubt grew until I talked to James about it. “I’m not leaving you, Pam,” he told me. “All I need is a place to sleep.”
But the noises kept going on. I had to understand what was going on.
I pushed myself to his door with renewed resolve and this time found it unlocked. I couldn’t breathe after seeing what I did.
There were tools, paint cans, and half-built furniture around James as he stood there. “It’s a lift system,” he said, “to make getting in and out of bed easier for you.” As I learned his secret, tears filled my eyes.
He had been working hard to make our house easier for me to get to. From the bedside table to the plans, everything was made with my comfort in mind.
James gave me a small package that contained a warm pad for my legs that was made just for me. “I wanted to make sure you’re comfortable, even on the worst pain days.”
Seeing how much he loved me made tears run down my face. He wasn’t going anywhere; he was just making things easy for us.
James told me, “I needed time to work without giving away the surprise.” We both laughed. I was afraid I would forget something.
At that time, our love and commitment were stronger than ever. The room, which used to stand for separation, became a sign of James’ love.
Our love grew stronger as we worked together to make the changes. On our anniversary, we showed off how the bedroom had been changed.
James took his things back to the room we shared, and I said, “Welcome back.”
He held me close and kissed my head. “Pam, I didn’t leave. I will never stop.”
Like the room around us, our love had changed. It wasn’t about sharing room; it was about what we would give up for each other.
