I craved a hug so much it almost made me sick. What happens when you realize that the hug is needed on the inside?

I dislike not being aware of my surroundings. I felt that way tonight, walking into the funeral home, until I saw him. It wasn't him, though--but those eyes were the same gentle and inquisitive ones I'd known as a child. And it hit me that Mr. Bailey was loved and missed by more than just me.

That ice-breaking resource, the slide show, was playing in a corner nearby. Faces passed--Mr. and Mrs. Bailey with children who were grown and gone before I entered their world. Then, later years--Mrs. Bailey's curly brown hair gone gray and close-cropped. The lopsided smile. The unsure eyes.

Staff at her nursing hope were upset when he died, I heard. He'd visited every day. A month ago, he learned he had brain cancer.

I know people die. It's expected and accepted. But when a man who befriends an awkward kid is, twenty years later, still showing love by remaining faithful to his Alzheimer's-stricken wife, that man is special. And...well...it's okay to cry when he's gone.