I often feel a wave of nostalgia when I remember my love, whom I met so long ago. He was quite magnanimous, always giving and never taking. He had the sort of qualities that engendered admiration from any person he met. Whether it was the way he seem to always assimilate you into groups during dinner parties or how he was always perceptive with every issue that might arise, it was clear that not one person could ever really feel any disdain towards him. Though he was very succinct, never speaking more than a few sentences at a time, I always felt as though we shared an ardent connection. I loved him with a fervor. I do not believe my memories were just vicarious and that in reality we shared no connection at all. We were joined by an esoteric bond. Our love was inadvertent and unexpected, but there was a profusion of it that flooded my heart. Although I do believe our love still lasts, it is hard for me to go from day to day without him by my side. And from time to time, as the love and misery that I once felt so deeply take over my body, my only option is to capitulate to them and replay the heart-wrenching, peerless story once again.

We met in a murky bar, on the south side of Boston. When I meandered in, I spotted right away a man who did not belong in forlorn bar like this. I was drawn to him in haphazard type of way. I asked if I could sit and chat with him. He nodded his head once and pulled me off to a peripheral table in the corner, away from the rowdy, drunk men. Though I do not remember him saying more than few sporadic sentences in the dim and dusty atmosphere of the old bar, it was clear that we had connected. This connection was not evanescent, for it became some a sort of tacit relationship that neither one of us ever spelled out on paper or with a ring. For over ten years, our connection strengthened to something that was unfathomable to anyone who had not felt it themselves. It was not until the gruff voice of reality shattered the foundation of our love, did I comprehend the fact that everything good in life comes to an end.

The fog, the night everything changed, was so opaque it extremely dangerous to drive through. We preserved through it, though, and eventually arrived at our destination, an extravagant party. These grand, opulent parties were prodigious with hundreds of people. If you were invited to one, it was a sin not to attend. They were always the most acclaimed parties of the year. The rooms were exquisitely designed, with ornate details and embellishments that were meticulously placed throughout the mansion making everything look as though it were worth millions. The whole place was dripping in urbane class from the people to the decorations. The waiters were a little officious, but it seemed as if they lived to fetch you “another one of those.” The atmosphere was like no other. As we strolled around we heard little squabbles coming out of the philistines and heretic mouths as they bickered about shallow minded ideas and differing views. After a hour or two, I believed that this night would be celestial, and I would never have another night as heavenly or amazing. My love stepped away from me, towards the end of the party, to talk to a young pugnacious man, named Dustin, whom he did some business with. Dustin was a fledgling in the business, having just graduated from a prestigious university. It was not long until, from the other room, I heard Dustin start to deliver a diatribe about some business matter. My love had a very conciliatory manner about him, and usually can calm people like Dustin down, so I was not worried and continued on with my effervescent conversation. I moved around and was soon lounging on a dazzling chair in the dim candlelight while a pretentious man talked to me, trying to show off. All of the sudden a sharp cacophony pierced through the ears of every person in the estate like a knife. The once placid atmosphere was thrown into turbulent madness. All of the screeches blended into one deafening vibration. In the all of the craziness, I pushed my way through the crowds of terrified people to find my love. I was launched into a state of trepidation when I failed to get through the swarm of distressed people in the room in which he was in. Through the corner of my eye I caught the sight of Dustin being held back and forced out of the room. He had blazing red blood all over his bedraggled body and gleaming glass punctured through the tips of his fingers and palms. When I made it to where all the screams were coming from, my body convulsed. The floor and my knees collided with an intense slam and an ear-splitting roar of agony erupted from my throat. The room went still as the everyone watched the ghastly scene of me sobbing over the bloodsoaked body sprawled across the bloodstained mahogany wood floor. My love was taken from me.

I never did figure out what set Dustin off that night, or why he took it out on my love. I do know, however, that this vicissitude changed me forever. I try not to remember the night of the deadly party, it brings too much pain. Instead, I fondly remember the times he held me with such profound love it was as if I were the only keeping him alive, or the way he could always quell my frustrations, or even the way our hands represented how our hearts molded together into one when we intertwined them. Our love is the definition of strong, and it will always be. God did not take him away from me permanently. When the day comes, the day I die, I will return to him in heaven. We will not be separated forever. Soon we will be reconnected once again, my love and I.