The kiss
I'm driving back home, cross country through the Scottish Borders. There's one car behind me and at every traffic light they stop and kiss, really kiss as though their lives depend on it.
It hurts.
It hurts because I'm so jealous of this unknown couple. They still have what I used to have. I'm following a reminder of my old up the A720.
My lips still remember what it was to kiss him. How he made me feel. My lips remember kissing him in dark tunnels on buses, on top of mountains, in hospitals, in our kitchen.
It's a special kind of missing. It lives about 3 inches above my bellybutton. It's a tense and tight kind of missing. It makes me catch my breath and I have to remember to keep on breathing slowly and deeply.
I'm glad others are happy and I say that truly without envy or malice. It gives me hope and brings me joy. It helps me remember that love exists for others and that all love didn't die when mine did.
Being part of WAY introduces me to others with the same deep loss. Their stories of their amazing lost lovers also brings me hope in a strange way. It makes me realise that all around me there must be couples living the kinds of lives that we had, couples who adore and appreciate each other. Ordinary people with ordinary lives who are capable of extraordinary love.
Love endures. I truly believe that. I know that I am still loved and always will be.
But I am not held, or comforted or kissed and that hurts more acutely than ever.
It hurts.
It hurts because I'm so jealous of this unknown couple. They still have what I used to have. I'm following a reminder of my old up the A720.
My lips still remember what it was to kiss him. How he made me feel. My lips remember kissing him in dark tunnels on buses, on top of mountains, in hospitals, in our kitchen.
It's a special kind of missing. It lives about 3 inches above my bellybutton. It's a tense and tight kind of missing. It makes me catch my breath and I have to remember to keep on breathing slowly and deeply.
I'm glad others are happy and I say that truly without envy or malice. It gives me hope and brings me joy. It helps me remember that love exists for others and that all love didn't die when mine did.
Being part of WAY introduces me to others with the same deep loss. Their stories of their amazing lost lovers also brings me hope in a strange way. It makes me realise that all around me there must be couples living the kinds of lives that we had, couples who adore and appreciate each other. Ordinary people with ordinary lives who are capable of extraordinary love.
Love endures. I truly believe that. I know that I am still loved and always will be.
But I am not held, or comforted or kissed and that hurts more acutely than ever.
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