Hubert's Last Night

What is it when one looses love? Is it the end of one road and the beginning of another? Is it the collapse of the common institution of romantic practice and tender affection? Is it the loss of a companion? The gain of a new life? Or is it all of these things and none at the same time? It becomes more and more difficult to define love as time goes on. Ballads and poetry of old are lost to a modern day cheapening of the word. "Love" is bandied about like any other and as a result, the very nature of love itself has become broad and difficult to understand.

In an effort to put the word back into its original context, let us observe one Hubert Shauman of New York City, New York. He isn't the sort of person one would normally equate romance and passion to, but he knew love all the same. His daily life took him from home-to work-to shops-to home again like any other poor white collar resident of the big city, but his redundant life was punctuated oh so nicely every morning and night by the presence of one Deniah Entman, the love of his life. She was a beauty, or at least she was to him. Her forehead was a bit high, and her teeth were large. She had frazzled hair and a large mole above her left eyebrow, but to Hubert, she was Aphrodite incarnate. Her face was perfect, her teeth, glistening jewels that made her smile priceless, her mole a perfect addition to her lovely face. He held her in the highest place of his heart, letting nothing stop him from showing his un-yielding love for her. He was not a rich man, nor was he terribly fine to look at, but he felt blessed by the invincibility and grace of love every day of his happy life. This love, this affection made him a man to be admired. He did everything for her, and never asked for anything in return from her but her love. Soon they moved in together, and things couldn't have been sweeter. Sure they experienced the first of the many small arguments that would come with two people living in the same home and depending on one another, but each of the rare scuttles brought them closer together as they found more and more that each was willing to adapt to the other's ways of life in order to stay together.

It was at this juncture that one of Hubert's most loyal and trusted friends met with disaster. He wrecked his car and became very badly hurt. Hubert and Deniah both knew that he would need a place to stay and heal, so they took him in and cared for him, loving their friend like a brother and comrade. This man, however, was a snake. His intentions were to seduce the lovely Deniah, and that he did. Within a short time, the more attractive man betrayed Hubert and took Deniah away. The betrayal was complete when Hubert learned that his beloved had moved in with his friend and they had begun to live the life that he had once loved. Now, alone and hurt, he began to learn the answers to the questions posed at the beginning of this text.

To loose love is to loose that which makes us human. Hubert slowly lost his desire to find romance. He lost his spark, without those daily punctuations of love and joy he slowly faded away from his other friends. His home became his cave, his dark dwelling in which he might escape betrayal or hurt. Like a lone fox, he cowered in the darkness, afraid of the predators alight on his doorstep.

To loose love is to loose a way of life. Without Deniah, he lost his will to eat, to sleep, to smile and laugh. Without someone to do these things with, without his love... these things meant nothing to him.

To loose love is to loose that which lights our path as human beings. That which guides us to a happy and safe route is useless in someone else's hands. Hubert turned to the things he didn't do when he was with Deniah. He drank and cried himself to sleep almost every night. He searched for love in the arms of countless women who failed him every time. He stumbled through the dark streets of New York, lost and drunk until one night... he never found his way home. That night, he learned what it truly is to loose love. He came across his treacherous friend and his beloved as they walked home from a bar much like the one he had just left. They were laughing together like she had with him before. They were kissing just the way he had remembered it. he was running his hands through her bushy hair with a relish that only a man in triumphant love could experience. Hubert watched the two stumble away into the darkness and at that moment, there on the street under the train tracks, his heart broke. It failed him, and he collapsed to the asphalt like a discarded rag doll, his eyes gazing down the road after his lost love and he learned that to loose love... is to loose that which gives us all life...