I had forgotten how breath taking it all could be as I sat there on the dock. We had had dinner, together, at a small table, dipping our crab in melted butter as the horizon over the bay turned red then purple then royal blue. It was a peaceful and surreal string of moments, great food, a little wine and for dessert, the stars.

He had married my sister, three years my junior. That’s how long the marriage had lasted. She had been so sweet and so innocent, but as soon as she slipped out from the thumb of my stern father, almost as instantaneous as Kent had slipped the ring on her finger, she had gone wild. The booze, the drugs, the affairs, but after forgiving her time after time after time, she disappeared into eternity leaving him broken and alone.

We had not been close then, and really had no reason to keep in touch, but like the beacon somewhere on the other side of the bay we dined, and Kent had been there for me, when my own wife had lost her battle. It seemed the old adage was true, it did take one to know one. Kent helped me like no one else could. He alone would know how painful it was when you had to finally stop holding the hand of the one thing you loved more than life itself and let it slip away.

I had not seen him in; oh it must have been, five years. He simply showed up at the hospital one day and just sat with me, as Della went through what would become her last round of painful chemotherapy. He kissed her on the forehead and told her she looked beautiful, then shook my hand and left. When she slipped away, as peacefully as the doctors could make it, in her sleep, Kent was there again to ease my burden and let me know that yes there was someone who understood.

That was two years ago. Since then he had called and I had called him. We lived less than 25 miles apart but it might as well have been thousands. In the past two years it seemed we had to make appointments just to get together and run.

I had done some dating but found most of the evenings wanting. Somehow from my twenties to my thirties the tables had been turned. I was now a piece of meat, constantly being squeezed and scrutinized to see if I was better than the previous purchase and did I give double coupons. I had come to make the choice to just be alone.

So it seemed that Kent and I ended up spending more and more time together. First, it was an occasional drink at Woody’s and a brisk run/walk down the Promenade in Havre de Grace. Before long we started fishing and crabbing together on weekends and once even vacationing together in the mountains for a week of rock climbing and biking. Time kept shifting for us; from youthful glow to tremendous heartbreak to comfort and support to now.

Here we were, two widowed men still attractive and in their prime, just sitting, enjoying each other’s company and being dazzled by the display of natural phenomena around us. It was that time of year as summer eased its way to fall. The days were shorter and the evenings had that light crisp bite to them. The muted colors of heat eased their way into