Sometimes I wonder if he could utter the words that could save his life. I have never seen someone so full of pain and sadness and it kills any words I might utter in return. Depression is a thief stealing perfectly good moments and locking them in the dark. There must have been dreams and hopes once upon a time. I have spent so much time growing old with him wondering how I can help if only to share happiness in the very last of our minutes. I used to believe it was completely up to me to create the joy. Beyond exhaustion I grasp at the last of my power for the super human strength it will take to chase the clouds away. Whispering in his ear and scratching his back I have only the words, “I love you and I am always here!”.