I see the ships.
This time I see them without you.
Crossing the bridge.
Arriving into your City.
The city of sailors, marines, sea and cozze.
I see those ships.
Big and strong.
I think about how we called that marina Pearl Harbour everytime we saw it.
How we laughed at the innocence of it all.
Imagining we would never be bombed with loss, bombed with sadness, bombed with death.
And then the sun rises.
I see the beauty.
I see the sea and the light once again.
In those moments I relish your city.
I see you alive everywhere.
Thank You my love.
You help me see.
I’m missing the physical….
Francesco was so affectionate with me.
Heart to heart hugs in the morning, he said it set the day right.
Cuddling up in the evening, one of our favourite things.
He’d get so excited, like a little kid rubbing his hands together, big big smile, at even the thought that we would all get into bed together for a siesta, any time of day.
Me, him and our two dogs.
Under the duvet.
It was a hub of love in there.
Keeping warm on winter nights.
Having fun on summer days.
Whilst the world was out there fighting and striving we were in there hiding and thriving, through love
“What shall we do now” ? I’d ask.
“Let’s cuddle up” he’d say.
Whilst I can now connect with him mentally, visually and verbally, the one thing I can’t do is feel that physical embrace.
I find myself craving him, like an addict having withdrawal symptoms, I’d give anything to feel him physically again.
If I think about that long enough I’ll cry.
In the meantime I’m getting by, remembering his love, his smile, his warm embrace and cuddle up style.