Numbing Me

I see your mouth move, making “oh’s” and “ss’s”, so I know you are speaking.  You are looking in my direction so I shake my thoughts from view and perk up.  “What?” Your mouth forms a frown and you begin again.  Between images of my own thoughts, I catch every other sentence from your mouth.  I offer my condolences, giving hugs when cued, the entire time wondering why I should care.  Callousness fills my veins and I am unable to feel anything.  Numb and useless, I sit next to you.  My mind tries to get my hand to move to yours but it doesn’t move; a kind of inability to care and care for you.  I begin to think of how bad of a wife I am.  As I think of this, I see you staring at me, eyes waiting for some sort of reaction, a nod or a smile.  I smile and nod appropriately, frowning when cued; the whole time thinking of how I have no feelings about this, it doesn’t affect me.  Your tears stream to your lips, forming words I don’t understand fully.  “Is there anything I can do?” I ask.  But the response is generic, “I don’t know.” No guidance to tell me what to say, what to do.  So I sit in silence, glancing into your eyes, half smile, half frown, not knowing which to choose.  My mind goes blank, I can’t even think about how to speak, especially the right words.  So I sit, distant and waiting for any clue from you as to how to help.