He had to be alone when the sadness and the tears and the anger came. He didn't want anyone to see them, didn't want to weigh down their hearts with the pain he felt, didn't want their sympathy or comfort when he was raging inconsolably. But when the dynamics had passed and the tears had dried and all that was left was a hollow, gentler sorrow, the door would open, and he would tumble gratefully into waiting arms. They would just lie together, sometimes for minutes, sometimes hours, speaking little, just taking comfort from one another's' presence. He would take comfort from strong arms around him, a warm rock he knew would never be swept away by the sea of anguish he had unleashed.