… But some nights, I lie down on my side, pull the covers around me, and put out the light, and I sense him there. It’s not a conscious decision; it just happens. I feel him scooch over next to me from behind and pull me to him, and snuggle up against me. I feel the cocoon of his love, as if he’s really there. It occured to me last night that it’s probably much like a person who’s lost a limb and the phantom pains that come throughout the years, despite its absence. In my case, it’s a phantom embrace, an embrace that was a nightly part of my life, something I enjoyed for two decades, yet now it’s gone.
Unlike the phantom pains, which I can only imagine are actual pain, these embraces are bittersweet – pain mixed with a bit of pleasure. For a few minutes, I close my eyes and pretend it’s real, and I feel the comfort again: the love, the intimacy, the peace that I was engulfed in with each of Rick’s embraces. But then reality strikes, and I miss him – and the love he bestowed upon me with those giant comforting hugs – all the more…
