Abandoned Once More
by linda wilson
Eight months after the death of my wonderful husband, I began to experience the searing pain of loneliness.
Through the early months, I'd felt very little emotion. I realise now I was in a state of shock, and the pain was yet to come. And when it arrived, I was engulfed with misery.
So at first, when a man, much younger than myself, but an old friend of my daughter, started to pay me subtle compliments, I didn't even notice. Gradually though, I began to look forward to his phone calls, and the sudden unexplained visits.
Not just looking forward to the attention, but willing it to happen, as if I was a young girl, besotted with her first love. If a day went by without a phone call, I would be beside myself. I would listen for the sound of his car, pulling in to my driveway, and find myself blushing at the secret thoughts I was begining to entertain.
To my shame, I realised whole days would go by without even a single memory of my beloved husband. I was obsessed.
Much to my distress, the young man in question seemed to tire very quickly of this game before it actually became a reality, and the visits and phone calls grew less and less, until they were no more.
I took to driving past his flat, hoping in vain to catch a glimpse of what I considered to be my lost love. I phoned, but never got an answer. I was devastated. Oh, there's no fool like an old fool.
Several weeks down the line, I now realise what had happened to me, although I still don't understand his motives. I was so desperately trying to recapture the love I'd lost, when my husband died, that I was prepared to go to any lengths, however ridiculous or sad.