My husband’s eyes are a world unto themselves.
Crisply blue with unexpected hints of silvery gray rumbling across them like storm clouds. They change intensity with his moods – bright and clear when he’s excited or passionate or very serious; dim and muted when he’s down; blazing and deep when he’s angry or afraid; sparkling and soft when he’s happy and laughing.
Lately, it breaks my heart to see how often those beautiful eyes are dim and lackluster with grief throughout the course of the day, punctuated with brief moments of the sparkling softness of laughter or the bright clarity of passionate excitement. Where I used to see only the piercing blue of love and passion and happiness fulfilled, I now see so much more.
His eyes are a window into his struggling self – the part of him that tries so hard to push through the clinging spider silk of grief that constantly threatens to render him immobile and suck out his soul.
Watching his daily struggles, I wonder if my own eyes change as often as his and whether that strangely strong silken grief will wrap me in it’s deceptively soft strands and suck out my soul as well.
I guess only time will tell.
I wish you all enough…