Missing You

 

I miss my morning email from you, like a big hug from far away.

I miss the thrill that it gives me, the lift to my spirits

I miss your eloquence, your intelligence and your point of view

I miss your stories of everyday activities, dearly held dreams and even your darkest fears.

I miss the connection, the history and what we’ve built together.

I miss the knowing, the laughing and the encouraging.

I miss the reminiscing of happy days, the sharing of hopes and dreams,

seeking out our truths, discovering life is not always what it seems.

I miss you, every bit and part and piece of you. Like an addict without her drug,

I feel your absence like a painful wound; darkness where light used to live.

I’d almost forgotten what life was like before I met you.

I’ve become addicted to your wit, your humor and your unique perspective;¬†your point of view.

I crave the conversation, the debate, the exploration of thoughts and philosophy of living.

As with most creatures rare and beautiful, you seek solitude and safety when the world becomes too much;

too much noise, too much pain, too many voices, too much chaos.

I know you are hurting and I wish I could make it all go away.

But you are there and I am here, you walking your path and I, on mine.

I can’t promise I’ll be here forever, no more than you can promise me.

But I know we’ll meet again one day.

Maybe not this at this time and in this place,

perhaps not in this body and not with this face.

I found you once before and I truly wish no more

than to find you once again.

I miss you

and wonder

do you miss me, too?

 

 

Love, Loss and Learning to Loving Again

“We are never so defenseless against suffering as when we love, never so helplessly unhappy as when we have lost our loved object or its love.”
-Sigmund Freud

I love Freud. His name was the one that I look upon as being the holder of the keys to a magic porthole to the fascinating world of The Human Condition. My father spoke frequently of him and always with great respect. I believe my dad was also one of those people who are driven to answer the questions that an intelligent, troubled mind manifests when whirling and tossing thoughts about, crashing against each other – why? Why can’t I just…. Why am I failing? Why can’t I understand him/her/them/it? Why on Earth did I do/say that?

Free will is available to us, yet often it seems as though we are helpless to choose in certain situations; the relationship is toxic, but the feeling of love and need is greater than the intellectual knowledge that there is an element of danger to oneself. Why is that? What is that part of the mind that over rides even self-preservation? Why would an otherwise sane person choose to marry someone sight unseen? Or engage in a relationship with another that goes directly against their moral/ethical code?

I was raised on a steady diet of the importance of education, the power of intelligence and the responsibility that goes along with such great power (shout out to Spider-Man and Stan Lee) as well as some other not so healthy behaviors and coping mechanisms, but none of those schools could ever prepare me for the Arrival of Love’s First Kiss, First Loss and First Heartache. To be clear, it didn’t help with the first nor all the others afterwards. But here’s the best part – the Hopeless Romantic remembers only the best of those times; she edits out everything unpleasant and retains only the memories that capture the Best of Love. The Cynic remembers only the bad ending and holds that hurt in case Danger (Love) presents itself again. Nothing like an unfiltered flow of remembered pain and heartbreak to give one pause. The Intellect remembers it all, without the coloring of emotion to confuse it; the good, the bad; the laughter, the tears; the lessons learned and the losses born, the beginning, the middle and the ending. These three parts of my mind have been working under an uneasy truce for years now and I have made half hearted attempts to dip a big toe in the waters of the Lake of Love, I have had to understand that if I believe that I cannot really love another until I understand what love really is, I will never love another. Love is not to be understood, taken apart and analyzed; it is to be accepted, valued and celebrated for the complex mystery it is. It works well with Faith, as it is another powerful unseen force at work and it is as essential as the air we breathe and the nourishment we ingest to truly live. I have opened my mind to the possibility of love, I’ve brought forth a few of the Best of Love’s best moments and I’ve put away some of the darker, more painful memories and unhappy endings, as I believe they have been out and in the forefront of my mind for too long. My hands are empty, I’ve set free the resentments and old hurts I’d held onto for years and now they can hold whatever gifts are offered to me. I have stopped looking back and fretting and ruminating about what I had done/didn’t do and now face forward, eyes to the horizon, ready to move forward and begin again.
Photo credit: sidewalk in downtown Sacramento; artist unknown

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