Emotional rollercoaster

I tried to write about my mother but it is impossible to type with your eyes when they brim with tears, so I will abandon the effort for now. Let me move on to subjects more palatable.
My wife, Amy, is like no other. She cares for me every day and every night. She supports me physically and emotionally, nurturer and lover she is, my life coach and hope rolled up in one petite bundle of empathy swaddled in angelic tresses of otherworldly fabric. She is why I live. She is why I try. Though I find many reasons to carry on, it is Amy who shines light upon the depressions of my darkest hours, their numbers dimming to inconsequential, fading to insignificance, backing away into the shadows of obscurity.
Did I mention she scratches my itches, even lowers me on to and lifts me off of the stool, rolls me in, out and over in bed and cuddles at all the right times. Wow!