A Round Reflection of My Wishes

I get why the Greeks began by invoking the muse. Why they asked for help, and grace, and for their words to flow. I've been thinking about the following for a long time, but every time I begin to write it, the words and sounds get garbled, and I cannot write them in a cohesive string of letters and sentences. So here goes:

When Alison was in such pain, even before being diagnosed with cancer, I wished with every part of me to be able to be the sick one. I wanted to absorb her pain and relieve her. I wanted to endure chemotherapy for her. I wanted to be the one strapped in a chair getting blood for hours. I wanted to wear the mask in the machine. I wanted to bear the burden for her, and bring her peace.

Now... I am glad that I am the one left grieving.
It's a tough road.

I know in my heart that hers is better now, and that she is enjoying health and happiness, pain-free.

Her struggle is over.

Now I'm in my own.

But see, if I said that wrong, it would come out as 'I am glad she's the one that passed away.' And that's not true.

I wish she were pain-free here, and if we had to choose, I'd have chosen to be the one that died.

But I wouldn't want her to feel the loss of me. I wouldn't have her shed those tears.

So at the end of this story, I would choose to be the one with the pain, the one dealing with long hours and needles, I would die in place of her, and then grieve over myself on Alison's behalf.

I just want her to be the happy one. The care-free one.

She deserved to be the one with no worries.