"In our deepest moments we say the most inadequate things." In this moment, this never ending moment, there are no words. As he reaches my place in the line

of waiting loved ones, I clutch onto his broad arms as they encircle me. I am vaguely aware of the eyes that watch us. I know his new wife does not approve of

the closeness, but this is my last moment, and I am not willing to let it end.

I breathe in his warm, clean scent, committing the smell to memory. I don't know how long it will be before I see him again, so I have to use this time wisely. As

tears threaten to fall, I release him. I am determined not to cry, to be as close to happy as I can be. I am happy for him. He is in love, and I cannot be angry at

him for that. But after today, I am no longer welcome in his life. As he gazes down at me, my own grief reflecting back at me in his dark chocolate brown eyes,

he says all the things in that gaze that cannot be said out loud. Suddenly, all the things I want to say to this man, my best friend, the man who chose me to be

the best man at his wedding over everyone he knows, stream into my head. I want to tell him I love him. That the four years I have been his friend were the

best of my life. But most of all I want to thank him. Thank him for fighting for me.

But I can't. Everything I think of drips with inadequacy.

So instead, I reach up and push his floppy hair out of his eyes, pull him into my arms and pour everything I can't say into this hug. I can't hold back anymore, as

I tighten my hold on him, the tears that I held in through the ceremony, the reception and our brief farewell fall unbridled down my face. He holds my face

between his hands and goes to speak, but I can't bear it. "Don't," I say. I can only say this one word as I choke back more tears and stifle the sob that

threatens to exit my mouth.

I embrace him once more and give him a watery smile. I can't help but give him this one last hug as my final goodbye, without actually articulating the words.

His wife comes up and whispers something about not wanting to miss their flight. She glowers at me as there is still physical contact between myself and her

new husband. As he turns away, and smiles to the rest of his nearest and dearest, he glances back at me and gives me my favourite smile that is reserved

only for me. "In our deepest moments we say the most inadequate things." So I choose to say nothing and silently hope that this moment will not be our last.