The Invisible Space

08.04.07

There is an invisible space between me and the rest of them.

It is the space you left behind and now it forms a barrier which I can feel, but cannot see; can sense but cannot touch; can reach but cannot pass across.

The desire of those that love you is always to hold you close to them in some way - and this is never more evident than in times of great sadness or great joy. So when you died, the first thing that friends and family wanted to do was to proffer the embrace of comfort and consolation - to let us know that they supported us and could feel, by proxy, the pain and hurt we were experiencing first hand.

Then I came to feel that there was this invisible space between me and them. It is the space you filled with your warm hugs and long embraces every time we saw each other.

Locked from hip to lip. You were the one I shared that space with and now I still feel you there - in between me and the others.

The paradox is great - I want to fold myself inside the shelter of others, but I cannot because the space belongs to you. And so I still feel you here, and am glad of that. Should I want you to free the space so those others can embrace me? - it adds to the loneliness I feel without you; so it conspires to console me and constrict me in one fell swoop.

I miss your hugs sweet man, and all that they mean to me and I cannot share them with another.