"Love?"

You would smile at me.

"Are you happy with me? Are you glad you waited for me?"

You wouldn't answer. You'd just reach over my face. I could feel your hands on my face. You could feel my tears.

"I love you so much."



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The years went by. I tried to imagine what you were doing. I knew you were out there. I knew the person who's meant for me must be out there somewhere. It would just be a matter of waiting. I knew I could wait forever for you if I had to. I loved you.

When my Mom died I was left to handle all the arrangements myself. It had just been her and I, and we'd grown apart over the last twenty some-odd years. One day she asked me when I was going to bring home a wife. I couldn't say anything to answer that. I couldn't even look her in the eyes the rest of the night. I wanted badly for you to meet her. She would be so proud of me. So proud that her son had such a wonderful woman. It would be perfect.

But as I watched her being lowered into the grave, I didn't have anyone standing with me. I didn't have anyone to show my Mom. I was alone.

That night I cried. I cried because I didn't have you with me to hold me and tell me everything was alright. I didn't have a hand to hold. Nothing. I'd never had that and perhaps never would.

Each morning I looked at myself in the mirror. The wrinkles around my eyes were getting deeper. My hair had thinned and receded. I hoped you would love me. I hoped you could still look at my face and smile...