Does love exist?

It is a funny notion that sits in your head. The feeling of being needed. The security of being loved. Without selfish motive. Love which continues without ebbing or waning. Consistent. Unchanging.

I wonder if it is a hypothetical notion. Around me love manifests only if there is something that needs to be done. Whimsical. Erratic. And strangely elusive. The many ups and downs leave me morose and taciturn. My faith in the notion of love falters and dwindles.

Surely, nothing happens without a purpose. One looks for reciprocation. Acceptance. And then I remember the purest form of love I ever knew. Without question. Unabated. Pristine.

Daddy. Nineteen years today since he left me alone. I should have known it was futile to find love elsewhere. Love died with his going. Forever.

(Featured painting by Leonid Afremov)