You.
There are so many things I would say to you, if I could speak to you plainly.
I miss home. The home I have with you. You make my life less empty, just by being in it, and I am glad I got as close as I did with you. I don't know how I can express that to you in future, when I am finally home. My physical state is different now.
Thank you for trying so hard to be kinder to me. I know you are making a lot of effort to do so. Doing intangible things, like taking charge of my doctors' appointments, dealing with the hospital bills we can't afford, and - forgiving me, encouraging me in my recovery as you put the past behind us. Your face lifts me up or gets me down: if you are upset, I am upset too, but seeing you smile lifts my spirits.
I am sorry for putting you on that highway road next to me as I lay collapsed. I could imagine your worries, your anger towards me, your frustration at talking to the uniforms, all while you had to think clearly above the trauma.
I don't know we will go from here, because I will need much more caregiving from you now than before. All I know is: I will make my recovery my full-time job now. Self-care. I am not sure how much that will alleviate your lifetime burden, but I will keep going for it.