A grieving man

From the time they are little boys they hear things like, "Stop crying, be a man."  "Don't be a sissy." "Toughen up." "Real men don't wear their emotions on their sleeve."
Why does the world demand that they renounce the pain in their heart and God-given emotions to "be a man." Why must we separate manhood and emotion?
I love my husband's tender heart.  To me, it makes him more of a man.  I know that there are many times throughout this that he has felt he could not grieve because he has to be the strong one.  He has to be the one who is the anchor that keeps some sort of sanity here, but he is hurting too.

I love that he holds me without even needing to know the reason behind the tears.  I love that my children's hearts can move him to tears in a matter of seconds.
He is brave, brave enough to handle visitors and phone calls that came at a time when I could hardly speak.
He is strong, strong enough to make the calls needed to find out what had happened with our baby's body and make the arrangements with the funeral home.
He is a provider for our family, going back to work, even though inside he feels like hiding with me in a dark corner.
He is gentle, cradling our baby's tiny body in his hands during the moments we got to spend with her.
His heart was broken too.  His tears fell alongside mine as we said our hello's and our good-bye's to her.
He lays beside me in bed at night tears running down his face, praying for God's peace to calm the sobs wracking my body, because he knows that that is the only thing that can make a difference.
He misses his baby too. Her name is memorialized on his chest with a footprint tattoo. He put it close to his heart because that is where she will remain all the days of his life.
He is a protector, ready to defend against anything and anyone that would make this more difficult than it already is.
He is my companion, walking with me every step, on this path I thought we would never have to walk again.
He is my love, forever and always.