Sometimes love hurts.

It’s language is so long lost, you can’t even see it, feel it.

It comes in crude, harsh words.

It comes in silence.

It comes in judgement.

In criticism.

This is not love.

Not love at all.

But you know him.

So you know.

His pain.

He can’t feel.

He can’t allow himself to feel.

This is the only way he knows how to be.

Unfortunately, the only way he knows how to love.

Perhaps.

Perhaps.

It was how he received love.

It is the only language he knows.

So when you hug him to say goodbye.

When you see the wrinkles on his face change.

When you can’t see the tears you know are there.

That is the only thing that tells you.

He does.

Indeed.

Love you.

And more than anything.

You have to hang onto that.

That precious, unbelievable memory.

Because if you don’t.

You could lose a love that is deeper than any ocean.

You could lose a bond that will outlast any relationship in your life.

If you don’t.

You’ll lose the childhood that kept you firm and your spine upright.

Familial love.

So deep, yet so frail.

Hold on my sweet.

Hold on tight.

X

K