Without a word, emptiness.   The room is filled with her absence and I seek any forgiving breeze to carry from me the crunchy apple, dewy spring smell of her.  Random strands of hair on my pillow protest, demanding something I cannot comprehend.  I knew this could happen, it has before.  Fear and Love are intractable foes and only the true, clear heart wins this silent struggle.  Mine has not.

I am prepared.  I have courage and faith and will, yet Hope is the dark matter I lack that drains my resolve.  Weakness creeps over me.   I told her that Love is the only currency the soul understands.

Doubt.  

Looking west, across the water, I seek only patience and calm.  I feel small as I let a modest stillness ebb over me.   Determined and resigned, I vow to not regret, not succumb, but Love is the truest gift and without that I dread the sullen days and tortuous nights ahead.

Perhaps I was wrong seeking happiness with so little to give.  I had only Love to give and that was not enough.