The Look of Love
There was a time when just the sound of his voice, the sight of his face, brought me joy. His presence soothed me; made me calm, allayed my fear and disquiet. My heart leapt at his caress. I slept better with him safe beside me. He made me feel invincible.
But then, over the years, he grew distant. Perhaps we simply grew apart. In any case, we became strangers occupying the same space.
And even though I was no longer pained by the loss of love, for it was gradual and mutual and impossible to get back, I missed the relief of unpacking my troubles to someone who was listening. I missed how everything could be made right again by touch. I missed falling asleep feeling protected.
I never took a lover although it was probably would have done me a world of good. Not even after he died. I felt too old at that point to even think in that way.
But strangely, alone, I started to regain my equilibrium. Instead of feeling sad that he was not fulfilling my emotional needs, I began to learn how to fulfill them myself. I was not alone long enough to learn all I needed to learn, but these are lessons which I will have to learn another time.