Tonight was a coming-out party.
My husband's, as a matter of fact. We invited both sets of parents to see a piece of art he had done for the art show. His statement explaining his inspiration cycled overhead on the PowerPoint. That was how he chose to tell them that he was, in fact...
... alive.
Well, that wasn't the secret. The secret was that he shouldn't be. What everyone thought was an accident three and half years ago wasn't. He intended to end his life and acted on that intent with complete resolve. A miscalculation turned death into injury.
He's starting to talk about it. He's starting to heal from the impact—not of the car, but of the truth. And of hiding it these past years. From everyone. From me.
How do I feel about it? I know whose arms were holding up the car that day, keeping it from falling. He saved him. He saved him for me.
Heard recently in a group Bible study:
"The idea is to give people a taste of the pie, not shove the whole thing in their face."