Lovers merely keep on loving.

I call myself a lover. Because I am. Having two true loves in my life. Which is an incredible feat. One died. Almost eight years ago. Yes, my dear sweet Jeanne. My wife. For 38 years. We are still connected. Spiritually.  A second true love entered my life. Seven years ago. An Italian. She's with me. Very much. In the physical realm. Perhaps at the behest of Jeanne. From the spirit domain. She's watching out over and after me.  Seeing that I'm happy. In very loving ways. Right here on Mother Earth. I am happy. Because I am a lover. I practice love. Daily. A genuine love. For life. For someone dear and precious. That is my sustenance.  The very stuff that makes me a lover. A romantic idealist, too. I know a handful of true lovers. They aren't exactly like me. Heaven forbid. Thankfully, they are being themselves. Unique and true lovers. In their own ways.  We lovers don't grieve. We merely keep on loving. --Jim Broede