What happens when we lose love - regardless of the circumstances? Physically, it's a visceral reaction - a vise around the heart - the inability to catch a full breath. The pain resides in the heart but radiates outward, all-encompassing and emanating from the body; worn like a hair suit. Meanwhile, the brain tries unsuccessfully to repair the now changed mosaic of life. There had been a vision of what life looked like (oh so pretty!) but that was gone now and all that was left were the shattered pieces of loss and betrayal. We filled our minds and our days with distractions - keeping "busy" - but we were always watching the clock and wondering why the time is passing so slowly and when, goddammit, am I going to feel better?
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In an episode of a TV show I used to watch, the lead female character speaks in a voice over about her love for a man who is conflicted between the two women in his life and she begs (in her head), “Pick me, choose me, love me! The declaration is selfish, embarrassing and childish and I laughed out loud because it was my own voice I heard. I wondered how I always seem to end up here, begging to be chosen? Even my husband Charles who lived his last few months in denial of his impending death, chose to be with people who allowed him to live in the fantasy that he would beat Stage IV metastasized cancer. I was totally incapable of going along with this fool's journey because I wanted to help him on his journey the way I saw it but mostly because I wanted to talk about what his death meant to both of us. I was robbed of those discussions and the only person who could allay my fears, Charles, shut me out.
Looking back on it, it's so easy to see that I could have handled it differently but I did the best I could and at the time, I didn't have the capacity to do it any other way. Each of us was selfish in a way that hurt the other and we, the couple who "talked about everything", could not find our way around this minefield. The truth was this simple: I resented him dying and he resented me living. It almost destroyed us. But in the end, when there was no need for words, none of that mattered. We transcended those feelings or maybe the process of his dying finally transcended our fear. Everything else was stripped away, we were left with simple clarity.
We were inseparable his last days. I knew absolutely that he loved me. He knew I loved him. Even when he had lost the energy and strength to speak, his love for me was palpable. In the end, it came full circle and he chose me; if I left his sight for even a moment his agitation did not recede until I was back with him, at his side, holding him.
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Looking back on it, it's so easy to see that I could have handled it differently but I did the best I could and at the time, I didn't have the capacity to do it any other way. Each of us was selfish in a way that hurt the other and we, the couple who "talked about everything", could not find our way around this minefield. The truth was this simple: I resented him dying and he resented me living. It almost destroyed us. But in the end, when there was no need for words, none of that mattered. We transcended those feelings or maybe the process of his dying finally transcended our fear. Everything else was stripped away, we were left with simple clarity.
We were inseparable his last days. I knew absolutely that he loved me. He knew I loved him. Even when he had lost the energy and strength to speak, his love for me was palpable. In the end, it came full circle and he chose me; if I left his sight for even a moment his agitation did not recede until I was back with him, at his side, holding him.
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James Joyce wrote "Some of it is ugly, obscene and bestial, some of it is pure and holy and spiritual: All of it is myself." That is the one of the most beautiful sentences ever written, it is true of each of us. Love is letting someone see you - all of you, including the dark, ugly bits - and being completely vulnerable regardless of the consequences. Even after all I have been through, all the disappointments and losses, I still want more. I want to give and take love, feel and know love. I think when you give up on love you start dying a little bit at a time, stuffing your life full of meaningless filler until you forget that all we take with us when our lives are over is the love.
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I live and love big. It’s just my nature, when I fall, it’s hard and passionate; I am filled with it's largeness. I don’t know if it has to do with my childhood or my alcoholism, and I don’t care. It’s who I am, if I love you, I am there until the end. I put my heart on the line and often it has been to my detriment. No matter, despite the risks, I remain open. Love makes you real. Love is the commonality that binds us. You have to be fearless in your approach to life and you have to accept that you are going to be hurt. With every little nick of your heart you can choose to move forward and open yourself up wider or to shut down and protect yourself. The problem with the latter is that the wall of protection that you built up around you quickly becomes your prison.
This quote from The Velveteen Rabbit conveys it much more clearly and succinctly than I ever could. The children's story is about becoming real by being loved:
This quote from The Velveteen Rabbit conveys it much more clearly and succinctly than I ever could. The children's story is about becoming real by being loved:
Pick "real". Choose love. Live fearlessly.
Pax.
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