Adrian wondered what it was he wanted.  He had long since lost hope of a woman who could love him like a wife would and love his children like a mother.  That mix of passion and sacrifice seemed quite impossible to him now.  Not because such women did not exist, but because he lacked what it was they wanted.  Though he’d had housekeepers and nannies and tutors and teachers and therapists for his children; though he’d had no shortage of memorable sexual partners; there had not been nor would there be, he now knew with certainty, anyone like Gloria in his life and times–a woman who would mourn and remember the boy he had been, the man he was, the old man he hoped to be, who would love him and outlive him and keep him alive in the daily lives and times of his people, his children and his children’s children.  He could feel the wave of sadness rising in him that he knew, if he did not move, would overtake him.