Tiny Diamonds...A Love Story

My husband proposed to me with the most simple, modest diamond. It was definitely not the stunner I was hoping for (or foolishly even expecting), but there was no way that I would ever have said no to that one question that would change both of our lives forever. Even though, in my egotistic pride, I have since made fun of him for that tiny diamond (since I knew he could have afforded a bigger one) - I still would never trade it - even if given the chance now. Even though, at one time, I was paranoid that my husband didn't love me enough to buy me the ring that I was in love with - I realize now that that simple ring is the perfect symbol of all that is precious in my life. Because the giver of that ring is a simple man, and he shines in his ability to love. He has more facets, and more value, than any diamond could possibly represent. So, although I don't have the gorgeous sparkly rock that I can flaunt on my hand, I do have the husband - the husband that other girls, who own that rock, may never have. And he gives a love that sparkles.


Now, as far as marriage goes - I've made far too many mistakes, and my husband has made far too few. My husband has, unfortunately, born the brunt of my illness, simply because he's at closest range. And being that bipolar (in my opinion) becomes chronic with time, and has the ability to increase in severity - my husband has had to see me, and be hurt by me, at my worst. It's one of the things that is the least fair about this illness - that our loved ones sometimes suffer just as much as we do.


But illness will never be able to steal my memories of the time when I first met this man, who eventually became mine. I was intrigued by his name - Cyrus. Who has that name? Nobody else I know (aside from the ridiculousness we know as Miley).  In history, a king had that name - and that is what that name has come to mean to me - "Cyrus - The King of All Husbands." He truly is the best husband a girl - sick or not sick - could ask for. He gets it. He knows what it means. He is a friend in the truest sense of the word. He's not afraid to speak up, if he knows it might help me. He knows how to word things ever-so-delicately, so as not to bruise my ego. But if he knows it's not the right time, he has the restraint to wait. He knows me inside and out. He has put up with my temper tantrums and manic fits, and I put up with his pouting and miscommunications. He is the reason I have whatever little bit is left of my sanity and dignity. He is a King to me - the King of my world.


My husband can do no wrong in my mind, because he does no wrong. He is a rarity among men. He is one of the kindest (although at times crankiest) people I know. He has hardened ever so slightly over the 15 years of our marriage, as anyone would do while putting up with a loved one's chronic illness. But Cyrus - hardened - is softer than any other guy I've ever met. He loves people, and because of that, he's been hurt by them. He's sensitive, and yet he takes charge. He's changed his share of diapers. He's cleaned his share of messes. He's a hard worker, and he makes beautiful things with his hands. He possesses a talent for seeing details that I have never seen before. He is one of the most intelligent people I know - with this amazing ability to figure things out, that other people just can't grasp. I learn things from him - and I love the challenge that brings. He can be selfish at times - like when he hides his favorite cereal from the rest of us - but he's most generous in the ways that truly matter. His art is how he loves - and he loves me - and he's not afraid to show it. He loves his little boys, and they want to be just like him. I hope that they are.

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