Sometimes love looks not like gushy, starry-eyed gestures of affection, stereotypically romantic gift showers, and sugary utterances spoken under the moon but the trust, respect, fidelity, companionship, steadfastness, and comfort of a sixty-five year marriage. Quiet. Beneath the surface. Granite solid yet feather soft. Time-forged love, gently born, true growing out of a long, shared life-journey. Beautiful.
She, in rehab, he goes to bed alone each night under his daughter's roof, missing his constant companion - his wife-friend - who has been at his side nearly every single night for years three score and five. He feels intense loneliness.
Aches of genuine love.
