Last night I watched you sleeping.

I pulled up that old black metal chair with the fluffy cushion and the scooped back and sat in, resting my head on a pillow I tucked up there and I watched you.

I knew you were in pain.

I knew you had to be uncomfortable.

At least they gave you a soft collar to wear, but I could still tell by the way you moved stiffly in your sleep that you could feel every move.

I listened to the crickets outside in the trees.

I listened to your breathing.

I wanted to touch you, to hold you, to tell you it was all gonna be okay.

Instead, I just watched.

Waited.

Hoped.

And thanked god that you were alright.

Sometime around 3 am, when you tried to turn over and couldn't, when you groaned in your sleep, that's when it hit me.

It coulda been me.

It shoulda been me.

But it wasn't, and I know there's a reason for that.

Because you need me to take care of you.

I never noticed before, never even dreamed of it, but I think I finally realize what it is.

I can now put a name to this…thing I'm feeling.

I can't tell you when it started.

I can't tell you where it's going to end.

I can't even tell if you feel it too.

But as the sun starts to creep in the window and your hair shines like gold…

When I see those green eyes open and look at me, a little dazed, a little confused…

When you smile and I realize that your face is brighter than any sunbeam could ever be…

When you whisper my name, ask me if I'd been there all night, thank me for sitting with you…

I think of all the things we've been through.

All the years you've been around.

All the laughter, all the tears.

That's when I know…

I love you, Shannon.

And when you giggle…

Smile…

Reach out for me…

I realize I said it out loud when you speak.

I love you too, Matty.