(Of all of the difficult posts I have written lately, this is probably the most difficult. The ones I have written recently have struck a chord with some people and have certainly helped me to heal. I can only pray that this one has a similar effect, for it is the most personal post I have ever written. I usually try to only write about my thoughts and feelings. I do not feel I have the right to tell other people’s stories. If I do include others, they usually remain nameless. This post is not like that. The things I reference here were said in public in front of strangers, so I do not feel that I am breaking a confidence. I am sharing my reflections and reactions to these public remarks.)
I have been so overwhelmed by the love and support that has been sent my way in the past week. I have received dozens of cards, emails, personal Facebook messages, food and memorials made in honor of my mom. I can not thank each of you enough for your caring. Many of you can relate to my loss and the feelings it has caused and you have shared that with me. Thank you all.
I would dare to say that love is shown and felt in as many different ways as there are people. More different ways, because for every person you care about, you love them in a different way. I love Tim in a much different way than I love my son Jon, although both are very deep. I love each of my friends for what they bring of themselves and what they bring out of me. I love each one individually.
A couple of months ago I had a discussion with someone I know about his partner. He told me that sex was the only thing that separated their relationship from any other relationship he had. It was his only reason for considering this relationship special. I was rather taken aback and tried to tell him that in my opinion, as you get older that one reason would not be enough to sustain a relationship. There are so many other reasons to make a life with someone, so many more important reasons to single out one person to spend your life with. He was not buying what I had to say.
When I have told that story to a couple of friends who have been married 40 plus years, they all just chuckle and smile that knowing smile. They know that true love transcends friendship, respect, sex, kids and every day life. All of those things are important, but a true bond is something that grows and sustains. It is hard and easy and fun and awful and makes us human.
Today in church our minster spoke about being single and how that doesn’t make you less of a person. That we are complete humans without a spouse. He said as a church we often make single people feel odd or less than. I agree. As much as I love Tim, it is up to me to be a whole person without him. (I am a better person with him, but a whole person either way.) Everyone is different and not everyone is lonely when they are alone. I love to be alone. Many people can not stand to be alone. Many people are lonely even when they are surrounded by others, even when they are with their spouse. We need to let everyone be different, just as we profess.
Our minister’s point, if I understood him, was that we are loved by God and not alone, whether single or with someone. We are loved with a love that will not let us go. It is a comforting thought, a wonderful thought. It brought me back to something that happened the day my mom died that has left me more bewildered, more upset, more confused than anything else that happened that day.
While at the funeral home, going through the inevitable paperwork that accompanies any life event, the funeral director asked my father to tell him a little about my mom. My dad seemed confused and I myself wondered if there was a line on the form in front of this man that asked this question. I just wanted to do what had to be done and go home. The funeral director wanted to be comforting and let my father talk. He did not realize who he was dealing with.
My father had seemed in control of his emotions throughout the interview. That did not surprise me. He did tear up and get that catch in his voice a few times, that was a bit more surprising. He gave long answers to “yes or no” questions and tried to “teach” us facts in his know-it-all way. When asked to tell the story of my parents’ first meeting, my dad told a very different version than what my mom had always told me. I know that every one sees and remembers things differently and again, I was not surprised that my father’s version had none of the romantic, fate filled details that my mom’s version was full of.
When my father finished, the funeral director asked, “So it was love at first sight?” and smiled a sweet, understanding smile. My dad sad, “No.” rather bluntly. The funeral director, rather taken aback said, “Then it was a love that grew over time?” And my father, who had just lost his wife of 60 years said, “I do not believe in love.”
The room grew eerily silent. The funeral director looked down, cleared his throat and returned to his form. As I often do, I went into self preservation mode and somehow finished the forms, sales pitch and inevitable picking out of a box to put my mother’s ashes in. But in the back of my head, getting louder and louder, I kept hearing “I do not believe in love.”
I thought I would never be able to share those awful words. I thought they would burn a hole through my brain and some day be the end of me. I talked to Tim, who had been present for the meeting, but I could not move on. I talked to Jon and yet I could not move on. I told a couple of friends, but still I would wake up at night and hear my father saying those words. It seemed to explain so much that he said that and yet it brought up more upsetting questions than it answered.
After so much thought, so much heartache, so much confusion, all I can say today is, ALL I BELIEVE IN IS LOVE! I believe in the love my friends, church family and even virtual strangers have shown me during this time. It goes beyond respect, liking me or wanting to just “do what is proper.” It has filled me with strength and courage. It has let me cry and talk and be whatever I needed to be. It has held my hand, fed my family and shared my heartache. It has been messy and embarrassing and yet it has been uplifting and beautiful.
I believe in the love of my son, who gets annoyed with me when I check by text most nights to make sure he is safely home (although he never complains.) Who comes to see me in every crazy play I am in and reads most everything I write (even though he is a much better writer than I am and hates my exclamation points!) He builds me up and I try to do the same for him. We are super honest with each other, because we know how important honesty is. Our love is on a whole different plain than any other.
I believe in the love my husband shares with me everyday, when he laughs at my goofiness and clumsiness or cheers for my triumphs. When he gives me time to be me and when he helps me to learn who I really am. It goes beyond respect, friendship, sex or any other quality I can name. It lasts forever and is not something I can quantify. If not for the love Tim has for me, I would never have discovered the ultimate love.
I believe in the love that will not let me go. I believe that God is there, and that even though awful things happen, He will be there. It is a love that I can not wrap my head around, but I feel it and know it is there.
I know we all believe differently, I know we have to try to be understanding of others’ beliefs. I know I have to muster up my love for others and do what I can to show love, even to people who do not believe in it. Even to people who are not very lovable. Maybe I have to show love in order for others to believe in it. I hope I can, I hope I am that strong, that compassionate, that loving. I am not sure. But if love is all I really, truly believe in, then I will find a way to show that, even now. If I want the world to be filled with love, then I have to share my love with everyone, even the people who can not love me back. Maybe they just don’t know how. Maybe I can help.
