I Know. And So Do You.

I know.
And so do you.

You were there for all the birthdays,
Every ball game, every drive,
Every time I tried to gather
All our children into one life.
You heard me speak about their mother.
You saw the place I made for her.
You know whether I dishonored her.

You were there.

I know what I gave them.
And so do you.

I know how much I loved them,
How hard I tried to make life fun.
To build a place where all belonged,
With room enough for everyone.

And when the stories started changing
What seventeen years had been,

You didn't need someone else's version.

You had lived those years with me.

I know.

And so do you.

We didn't have relationships
That happened out of your sight.
No hidden conversations between us,
No other version of our life.
My time with them was time beside you.
Our memories overlap.

So when they tell you who I was with them,

You already know the facts.

Not because I'm always perfect.
Not because I never get things wrong.

But because you were standing next to me
All along.

And still, I know this cost you something.

That's the part I can't ignore.

These are children that you raised and loved
Long before I came through your door.

It would've been so easy
For this storm to split us too.

So many marriages buckle
Under half of what we've been through.

But when everything around us shook,

You never let go of me.

And I don't know if I've said enough
What that has meant to me.

You knew what you had witnessed.
You knew the life we'd made.
You knew every imperfect moment,
Every sacrifice we'd paid.
You knew the woman standing next to you
Because you'd lived beside her too.

And when I didn't recognize
The woman they painted me to be

You looked at me and reminded me:

“Honey, I know you.”

And somehow that was enough.

Thank you for not confusing loyalty
With pretending I can't be wrong.

Thank you for hearing me when I'm hurting
And for helping me stay strong.

Thank you for being patient with my endless processing

But most of all,

Thank you for not letting other voices
Rewrite what you know is true.

Because you were there.

You saw me.

You know me.

And when the ground beneath us shifted,

You stayed.

Maybe that's what love looks like
After all the endless songs:

Not roses or Christmas lights,
But standing through what's gone wrong.

Not promising there'll be no storms.

Not claiming we'll never bend.

Just knowing when the whole world changes,

That's still my best friend
Standing there.

I know what these years have been.

And so do you.

I know the love that built this home.

And you were building with me too.

Eight children,  twenty-eight grandchildren
All the memories we made—

And even when some disappeared from view,

Look at everything that stayed.

You stayed.

I stayed.

And somehow after all of this,

We're still laughing,
Still planning,
Still choosing
The life that we get to live.

So after all these songs I've written
About everything that went away,

I needed one that simply told you:

Thank you for staying.

They can tell their story.

I can tell mine.

But you don't have to wonder.

You were there.

I know what I did.

I know how I loved.

I know how hard I tried.

And so do you.

And Rick—

I will never forget
that when everything else was shaking,
you stayed.

3534/7500

There are stories being told now About the woman I have been, Things they say I said or somehow did, Intentions tucked within. But I don't question what I gave them, Or the heart they got from me. I know how hard I tried to love them— And you were there to see. I know. And so do you. You were there for all the birthdays, Every ball game, every drive, Every time I tried to gather All our children into one life. You heard me speak about their mother. You saw the place I made for her. You know whether I dishonored her. You were there. I know what I gave them. And so do you. I know how much I loved them, How hard I tried to make life fun. To build a place where all belonged, With room enough for everyone. And when the stories started changing What seventeen years had been, You didn't need someone else's version. You had lived those years with me. I know. And so do you. We didn't have relationships That happened out of your sight. No hidden conversations between us, No other version of our life. My time with them was time beside you. Our memories overlap. So when they tell you who I was with them, You already know the facts. Not because I'm always perfect. Not because I never get things wrong. But because you were standing next to me All along. And still, I know this cost you something. That's the part I can't ignore. These are children that you raised and loved Long before I came through your door. It would've been so easy For this storm to split us too. So many marriages buckle Under half of what we've been through. But when everything around us shook, You never let go of me. And I don't know if I've said enough What that has meant to me. You knew what you had witnessed. You knew the life we'd made. You knew every imperfect moment, Every sacrifice we'd paid. You knew the woman standing next to you Because you'd lived beside her too. And when I didn't recognize The woman they painted me to be You looked at me and reminded me: “Honey, I know you.” And somehow that was enough. Thank you for not confusing loyalty With pretending I can't be wrong. Thank you for hearing me when I'm hurting And for helping me stay strong. Thank you for being patient with my endless processing But most of all, Thank you for not letting other voices Rewrite what you know is true. Because you were there. You saw me. You know me. And when the ground beneath us shifted, You stayed. Maybe that's what love looks like After all the endless songs: Not roses or Christmas lights, But standing through what's gone wrong. Not promising there'll be no storms. Not claiming we'll never bend. Just knowing when the whole world changes, That's still my best friend Standing there. I know what these years have been. And so do you. I know the love that built this home. And you were building with me too. Eight children, twenty-eight grandchildren All the memories we made— And even when some disappeared from view, Look at everything that stayed. You stayed. I stayed. And somehow after all of this, We're still laughing, Still planning, Still choosing The life that we get to live. So after all these songs I've written About everything that went away, I needed one that simply told you: Thank you for staying. They can tell their story. I can tell mine. But you don't have to wonder. You were there. I know what I did. I know how I loved. I know how hard I tried. And so do you. And Rick— I will never forget that when everything else was shaking, you stayed.

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