Throughout my life, I’ll be 80 in February, I’ve had two kinds of being alone.

One, which I enjoy, is being alone when there is someone in the next room or soon to return.

The other kind of loneliness, frightening and depressing, is when she has left, gone forever.

The first type is temporary solitude. That can be stimulating — unleashing creative energy to write, play the piano, listen to music or become immersed in reading.

The second type, involuntary loneliness, produces sadness sapping all energy. When that happens even reading is impossible — words swim meaninglessly on the page.

You think you can escape that sadness by moving from place to place, but you can’t escape. Time and a new relationship are the only cures.