Sometimes the truth weighs heavier

It was a late afternoon when she received a text from one of her best friends to meet up for dinner. It’d been a long day at work. And she needed a bit of distracting. So they met up for sushi. The waitress had just finished handing them their menu’s when her phone rang and her other best friend was on the other line. She smiled and said “Oh look who it is” showing the phone to her friend across the table.

“Hello Sunshine!” She said in her usual cheery voice.

What followed were a multitude of pleasantries, and there was an eerie sense of worry that came over her. She knew in her heart that, that conversation had much more to do with something important than what the weather was this time a year. She could hear the nervousness in her friend’s voice so she finally said

 “So what’s up? What can I help you with?”

“Well, I don’t know how to say this.”

And her heart sank

“Well just say it.” She squirmed in her chair.

“I received an invitation in the mail.”

“And?” She still couldn’t put things together

“He’s getting married.”

“Oh, god” she gasped.

That moment felt like being at the end of a mountain when the snow separates from the ice caps, and an avalanche rushes down. And you gulp and close your eyes like if that will be enough to help you escape its wrath.

That moment felt like being in the middle of a frozen lake skating and feeling carefree. Till the ice beneath you cracks, and gives, and the freezing waters begin to devour you. And you throw your hands up in the air. Like if reaching for the surface will keep you from drowning.

That moment felt like being in the middle of a concrete city surrounded by buildings when a magnitude earthquake hits and the walls start to cave in. And no matter what you do you can’t weave fast enough before another wall comes crashing down. And you flail your limbs as though it will be enough to stop the earth from swallowing you whole.

Her friend continued on and she asked a flurry of questions. Who was she? Had they dated a long time? Why hadn’t she ever seen her? Had he loved her long? A thousand questions to make sense of one undeniable truth. He wasn’t hers to keep anymore.

Her friends did their best to comfort her. The one on the phone lived in another state and could not be there physically so she arranged with the other to tell her this way. So she wouldn’t be alone. So she’d have someone to shed the tears with. Once she was done asking a million questions she got off the phone and the tears began.

She did her best to wipe them but every time she did another quickly followed. It was a type of sadness unimagined. A thousand emotions came to surface. So many she’d tried for years to suffocate.

Their love had been the kind of love that stays with you a lifetime. He was the boy that taught her what love was. She was the girl who brought him joy beyond compare. And though that love was young, it was pure. It was everlasting. They grew in years together. But she was broken. And he could never see that. He so direly believed in her that he didn’t see her jagged edges. He saw so much potential in her and that was enough for him to keep on loving her through many years. But the brokenness in her made her push him away time and time again.

The years went on, and their unwavering love caved inevitably. She loved him so much she couldn’t drag him down with her. He never understood that sacrifice. So she did her best to move on, dated, and in crowds of men she searched for his face. In hearts of others she called his name. And after every breakup she suffered, her heart longed even more for him. But it was too long, too late, too wrong.

6 years passed and she saw him rare and few. She heard of no other in his life, so to hear that he was now getting married not only shook her, it left her breathless.

“It’s the end of an era” she said to her friend

“Yes, it really, really is.”

She began explaining things to her best friend as if she didn’t already know.

“I never wanted to hurt him. I just wanted to save him from myself.”

“I know.”

“It’s silly isn’t it? To cry over someone who hasn’t been a part of your life in so long? I have no right to be such a mess.”

“NO, it’s not silly. It is normal. It is expected, believe me I know.” And she did know. It’d happen to her too. “Everyone’s favorite unrequited love story is really over. It really is the end of an era. Not only for you, but for so many others as well. It is sad, it is heart wrenching sad. And you have every right to cry over it.”

So she did, as quietly as she could in the middle of an uptown sushi place. Surrounded by people and lovers, and stories that were beginning. As hers was direly ending.

Dinner was over and she walked to her car. She barely made it inside when the weeping broke through. Like a dam that gives, obliterating everything in its path. She went home and pulled from the back of her closet a box she kept well hidden. Every physical part she had left of him was in that box. Pictures, and CD’s he burned for her, stuffed animals, a collection of snow globes from every city he went to, a music box with two little porcelain Chihuahua’s inside. T-shirts, and hats, and post cards, letters and cards. And in one wooden box, two wilting roses. The first he ever gave her.

And with every object, a memory appeared. And the memorabilia of their love story played their silent movie in her mind and heart, as she cried uncontrollably.

She crawled into bed that night and put Michael Buble’s song “You were always on my mind” on a loop. She laid back and faced the empty side of the bed and she wrapped her arms around his absence one very last time.

Sometimes the truth weighs heavier than all the castles you painted, than all the dreams you created, than all the endings you thought were fated.

Cropping out history

I sat at home flipping through a magazine when I received a text form a friend. I look at my phone to find it’s a picture of her and Superman announcing that they were now in a relationship.

I laughed out loud. She’s so silly.

“If it were only that easy” I replied

“It should be”

“Right”

“Well maybe you can’t crop your way into someone’s heart. But can you crop someone out of your own?” And I knew where she was headed.

Recently she’d suffered an ill fated love affair. The type that leaves you reeling because you gave so much more than you could afford to give.

They’d had a whirlwind romance. The type that usually ends with a white dress and a reception where you vow eternal love for one another. But short from taking that step of asking her to marry him, he developed many doubts. Instead of working through those doubts, he decided he simply didn’t want to be in a relationship with her. She was left in shock. From night to day, he changed his mind, and she, well she had no choice but to respect his decision.

“My heart won’t listen to my mind. I just want to be over him. Why aren’t I over him?”

She was fighting a battle; the realization of loss, the abandonment, the dissolution, and the piling of mixed emotions were asphyxiating her rationality.

What she really wanted was an easy fix to her ever breaking heart. But when it comes to healing, it’s a process. One that requires that pesky little word – Time. Because if it were that easy to just hit crop, narrow the corners of our lives, exclude the unwanted, unnecessary parts of our lives. Would our pictures ever be whole? Without all the pieces, would the puzzle ever really be complete?

They say that if you don’t pay attention to the past you will never understand the future. And maybe it’s true. Maybe in the grand scheme of things it makes us stronger, wiser, and more resilient.

He was a memory that she never wanted to visit again. And I couldn’t blame her. But it wasn’t about him any longer; it was about looking closer at the picture. Zooming in. Realizing that the girl with the red watery eyes, who wore sadness on her shoulders, would come out the other end a better, much stronger person.

See hitting crop too many times doesn’t free us of the unnecessary; it cripples us to a much smaller grasp of things. Because you can crop the person out of the picture, but you can’t crop the memories lived with them. Our lives aren’t self edited still images we post to have someone comment and critique on. Our lives are a running moving, picture, with sound and bloopers.

Bad things are always going to happen in life. You are bound to get hurt. But instead of cowering away from that, that will only mold you, it is necessary to just accept things. Deal with the emotions, and face the issues head on. Realizing that it’s your story and in the end it’s entirely up to you how the ending is written. And if all else fails, well, you can always Photoshop a picture of Superman right next to you. :)

A forever kind of love

It was mid day Sunday when we went over to visit a friend at a Geriatrics center. We sat most of the time discussing what to do about this Friends health. And explaining to his son, who had come down to visit from up north, the critical issue of this friend’s relocation.

See he’s in his mid 80’s now and often forgets taking his medication. He now needs care 24hrs a day. But all our good intentions are now short of the care that his family can give him. As my father discussed this with his son, I sat next to this dear old man and the love of his life.

She’d lean in to talk to him since he’s hard at hearing. And he’d look at her intently with the sweetest sadness in his eyes. There was warmth in the way they spoke to each other. And their love radiated in the way they’d smile at one another.

The decision to uproot him from his home was a hard one. And we all knew it. He’d live next door to the love of his life for 25 years. They never married and to anyone else it seemed like they lived separate lives. But they shared much more than just a hall in an apartment complex.

They shared decades of endless coffee’s and breakfasts. They shared dinners and long conversations. They shared losses and gains that life threw at them. All with stride, all with care, and deep respect for one another.

They shared their everyday life with each other; the monotonous routine to the perpetual tragic turn of events in their lives. For 25 years he drove her to all her errands. And every Sunday afternoon they could be found drinking coffee at her apartment after a long day of errands. When one was sick, the other would cook soups and old Mexican remedies for the other. This was their way. Their friendship was that profound. And year after year, a love more unconditional than any other type of love grew.

They never married because after becoming a widow she felt a sense of loyalty to her husband. And he never remarried because after a divorce he fell in love with a woman who would never marry again. But for 25 years they remained neighbors and each other’s confidant and best friend.

 Now both in their late 80’s their illnesses have blotted out their future. Dementia is starting to set in and it is harder for them to get around. They’ve become senile and it’s obviously time that someone takes care of them. They need nurturing and love, and sadly both will be leaving very soon to their families miles apart from each other.  Him up north, and her down south to Mexico.

So to see them today having come to the realization that now they must part ways was very much heart breaking. And he said it so that day at brunch. He told her his heart would break if they took him away from him. But she reassured him that it was okay. That she would put aside her heart just to see him well and better taken care of.

You could see it in their eyes, how hard it was going to be for them to say goodbye. How hard it would be to walk away from a lifetime of memories. But inevitability has a way of catching up with you when we least expect it.

The visit ended and we left promptly. But as we drove away I couldn’t help but think how bitterly sweet their goodbye would be. How after 25 years and many recollections they remained steadfast when it came to their love. So pure and so wholesome. Rare, oh so rare, for our time.

True love stories are very hard to come by these days. Pure unconditional love is a rare gem often stowed away secretly. Our society has a dire need of return policies when it comes to love. It’s so much easier for them to discard of someone than to stand by them a lifetime. And divorce has almost become a norm, a solution, an easy fix, to people’s issues.

So when you see a forever kind of love, the kind that lasts a lifetime, you can’t help but regain some hope. Hope in humanity, that the ideals that we vow to upkeep sometimes are worth all the struggle. That the exceptions in love can occur much more often than the rule. And that love is capable of withstanding much more than we give it credit for.

I’m not saying it’s easy to come by. What I am saying is that given a real shot at love, every relationship can have a real opportunity at it. But it might take rubbing off the skepticism we’ve been wearing as sunscreen. It might mean tearing down the walls of our insecurities. And it might also mean rebuilding and restructuring bridges we burned and digging up the ideals that we buried.

It’s work and exertion on our part, but a lifetime later you will find it to be a blessing… to have had lived through something so exceptionally special.