One Way to Overcome Loss

He was a bare-knuckled, hard-edge kind of guy. His

pulled-up, pushed-out chest and over-direct eyes let people

know where but not who he was. He was at the top of his game

until his wife left him. No note or scene. Just a message on the

answering machine from somewhere. He fell from swagger in a

descent that dragged his shoulders and chest to his belly.

The door to his heart swung open. A terrifying moment.

He stood staring into the closet at his clothes on one side and

her bare hangers on the other. After some thought, he began to

bring her back. He found a handful of her clothes in the hamper,

acrid and sweet with her scent. He hung them in the closet.

He put the CDs and books she’d left behind there too and

taped her photo inside the door.

He moved a small table in front of the closet and placed a

chair facing it. He ate there from then on, telling her about his

day, his victories and defeats. He told her jokes and spoke of

odd items in the news. He asked her advice. She was, finally,

the attentive wife he’d wanted. With her door always open to

him, the old, rolling gait returned and life bounced off him once

again.