Working as a social worker, she comes into contact with, ALL the bad things that happen to people’s lives, and so, it’s, very important, to have a supportive and understanding “better half” who will, help her through the toughness she’d encountered from her work daily, translated…
Recalling How When I First Met You, What Attracted Me to You, was Your Occupation Column that Had “Social Worker”………
Recalling how the very first time I met you, what attracted me to you, was your occupation of “social worker”.
Before you, the stereotypes I had of social workers are those instances on the news where the social workers didn’t get there in time, to stop the tragedies, how the society judged them, over critically for it; or, as my mother was hospitalized, and I couldn’t afford to pay for her care, an social worker entered into the ward, and said to us, “There are the assistance programs offered for the poverty-stricken families without the interests, just pay up the medical charges as you can slowly.” In the past, I’d not quite, understood the risk, and the hardships of a social worker, until, I’d, met up with you.
Those Talks Late at Night
The love we’d found, was sparked over the late night conversations we’d shared.
Before I knew you, I was originally, someone who’d, VOWED to leave the heartfelt stories behind in this world, a novelist, but, the four years of cutting off ALL contacts with the outside world, and focusing on my writing had, taken me, into, the deep end, I’d become someone who would have, this splitting headache, as I’d, started focusing, for an hour, or two at a time. I’d suddenly, lost the motivations of my own life, and the goals, and, what was left for me in life, was nothing but the barrenness and the emptiness of it all.
Right at the moment, that, I’d, wanted it to be over completely, your profile from an online dating site registered into my eyes, I’d decided, to work up my courage, and left a message for you, “I’m truly in awe of your courage, willing, to be someone who helps others. The love of man can bring fatigue, but, the love of God will always be there for you when you need.”, and you’d, replied back to me, genuinely, and it’d, sparked that opening of many conversation topics we’d, come to share: I’d disclosed to you how my mother’s suicide attempts in my middle school years had, affected me, and the joys I’d had, telling my students all the stories; and you’d, started telling me of a case you have, on how a mother had, refused, to show ANY love, along with a daughter who got raped, by the man her mother was, cohabiting with, and, how she’d, said she’d, wanted to go home, after being, placed in emergent custody.
With the increase in our conversations, I’d started feeling awe of your work: there was a case with the special callings, that can see “things that others can’t when s/he was younger, walking around”; there was a case whose home was, filled with recycled junk, and had, taken the rancid fish, and cooked it for lunch; and there was one who’d, abused drugs and started, hallucinating, and picked up a knife, and, jabbed it into his heart…………all of these tales, were, shocking to me, and my dear, you’d gotten involved in these stories, for a decade. I’d finally understood, how your department received the bonusses in pay, along with the pepper spray.
That evening, after you’d logged off, I’d written down: a woman’s job, is to sort through the many problems of the families, ringing their bells, knocking on their doors, say to them, “hi, I’m a social worker, here, to help you.” Suddenly, it’d, dawned on me, how you are able to, work so long, at your job, because what you’re doing, was exactly like what your beloved Father had done—giving yourself, wholeheartedly, not only saving those in need, you’d also, helped, pulled those who are, slowly sinking in the world, back up.
Meeting Up After We’d Experienced Our Separate Shares of Traumas
After I’d met you, the migraines that were, troubling me for a long time, suddenly, got cured, as if, by magic, and, in its place, was the respect, and love I’d felt for you, doing what you did. You’d, performed a miracle on me, it’d, made me believed, that you are, a god that, soothed my pains. And so, you can’t imagine how much heart ache I’d felt for you, after I’d, read through your diary postings and your FB pages.
I shall never forget, that photo which was, buried, among the endless photos, with just, you in it—you, sitting still, staring at the stone-paved floor ahead, lacking that focus in your eyes, there was, that silent scent of loss, that got, saved, in the still frame, which was, captured, by your best friend with whom you’d taken the trip with, and it’d, become, branded, into my heart too.
I’d read from your online journal, that that scent of loss came from your witnessing too much sorrows from work; although, you’d, worked hard, and used your faith, to help you handle all of this, you’d also found, that other than your faith, you had, nobody else you can, rely on, and, he who’d, left you long ago, already found, someone new.
You’d asked yourself, “Why isn’t there a man to love me? And hold me tightly, when I’m in need?” sitting at my end of the computer screen, I started crying, I’d wanted to ask: how can God, be so cruel, making an already, too brave woman, face all of this, on her own?
Perhaps, we can choose to believe, that God had, arranged for our two beautiful souls to meet, after all the pains we’d weathered through, so we can, realize, just how, precious and hard-to-come-by this love is, that what we found in one another, was worth, the promises of forever for.
After you said “I do”, I can finally, take care of you, as I’d, always hoped to, hold you in my arms every day, and hear you tell me of the various cases you’d encountered.
That day, you’d told me, that an unwed mother was in the birthing room, and hadn’t, called you back yet, and finally, you’d gotten the answer, then, you’d, carried in the lunches for two in, to visit her. “Are you her first visitor after she gave birth?” I’d inquired. “Yup, because she didn’t DARE tell her father, that she had, another child”, you’d answered. I’d smiled, and continued listening, and what you didn’t know was, I felt, so very, proud of you from deep down, because my wife is, an angel who’d, brought the hopes to the unfortunate in the world. Your name is: social worker.
And, it takes, a lot of strengths, to work in this specific area, because you are going to encounter a TON of bad things, and, everything that gets sent to the social workers’ stations are, always the awful things in the societies, and, you need to have a strong heart, that blind optimism about life, in order, to last long in this field of work that you’re in.