She had the saddest eyes in the universe. Haunted. Defeated. Eyes that feared closing, that dreaded closing.
I sat next to her on a park bench one afternoon. It was a few weeks after Martha had gone, three years ago now. I may still have a fair amount of life ahead of me but were I to pick a saddest moment, a low point, it would be that afternoon sitting on the bench. I was no longer angry that Martha had taken the house. Or our friends, our shared friends really were her friends, and my friends didn’t live in London. It didn’t help that I had nobly quit my job so we didn’t have to work together. I was not yet at the point of making new plans, I was a long way from making new plans. I was numb with loneliness.
Five minutes sitting next to her and the sadness cutting my being had faded, lost in the stillness, the acceptance of her eyes.
“Are you OK?”
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