I always wondered about the "two of one flesh" church definition of marriage. After a few years, I decided it meant that you think alike, finish each other's sentences, see the same clown faces in clouds.

It's more. I feel as if I've lost an arm, my hands. My heart. Now I am more than alone, less than just me.

Funny, how there were evenings spent sitting in the same room, maybe reading, maybe watching a movie, where we wouldn't say more than a few words. This silence is not the same. This is filled with the not-here of him.