I took his hands, cold and clammy with tears as he grappled to accept the end of his love story. Let go and give in so that the pain can carry you. I wanted to say. I have gained a lot of knowledge and wisdom about love and loss and moving forward, and would’ve liked to gift him with all that I have come to know. I fed him some of the pick me-upper-lines that I have been fed by friends who sat by me while my splintered heart stabbed my inside with every tear-drop. She wasn’t worth your time anyway, you’re better off without her, you’ll find love again… I said.
“You don’t understand,” he said.
I kept silent. For most of us, there’s a first love and a second, third, fourth, fifth…before our heart gets used to pain and we become better at letting go – before we understand that all love stories eventually end – before (some of us) stop loving to avoid the pain – before we realize that there is no happily ever after, just life, with its own design and the tide will trash us about like seaweeds, and tear our roots from its sand and leave us to float down stream not knowing where we’ll land – before some of us (like me) stop making and believing in promises and live for the moments be it four months, two, ten, forty, sixty years. If life doesn't tear us apart death will.
This personal realization does not deter me from love, on the contrary, I’m a better partner, friend, lover because of it. I understand love’s frailty and do not waste a moment of pleasure with hopes of what tomorrow may bring. I hold on for my life and drink from the well of desire and when the moment comes to let go, I let go. I hurt and cry and mourn the loss yes, but that is part of the process.
Experience has taught us that we will pull ourselves together to love again. But to a young unseasoned heart like Thorr's this is not a concept that’s easily understood. It is something learned with time. He once walked out of a treatment facility in the midst of winter and while it was snowing dressed only in t-shirt and shorts, no shoes for a girl.
He once wanted to have a baby with as restless and confused a girl as he at sixteen because he thought that a baby would bond them forever. I was horrified. I contacted the girl’s mother who was equally horrified and the girl was placed on birth control. When they got in legal trouble together, she blamed him for everything to walk free. Yes, love.
I guess I don’t understand. I thought looking him over. Few months back he decided to grow an afro. He’s bi-racial. My ex-husband, his father is blond, and the summer sun had turned the tip of Thorr’s afro curls gold.
I sat on the couch beside him, listening to him talk about love and forever for this woman he’s known two months.
“What are you thinking about?” he asked after a long silence in which I did nothing but held his hand, and touched his curls.
“I was thinking about your father,” I said.
“What about him?”
“I loved him once, when I was very young,”
“You left him,” he said in the accusing tone he always uses when discussing his father. He still doesn’t understand how destructive the relationship was and why I felt it necessary to leave.
In a recent conversation with Ally who filed for divorce, that in my opinion she should have done many years ago, I told her that she will find love again. I have come to believe that most of us need to believe that. I would bet that for many, the idea of living without a man/woman to love maybe among one of life’s biggest fears.
“Why?” she asked. “What possible reason would I have to want to go down this road again after the madness that I've endured for thirteen years?”
Why? I do not know. Some of us barely escape love's near fatal wounds. Perhaps the answer lies in Sigmund Freud’s The Death Instinct and The pleasure complex theory. Despite life’s pains we live for life’s pleasures no matter how brief.
What is more pleasurable than human contact be it holding your child in your arms – accepting a lover’s kiss – becoming one with another – touching- tasting - smelling -reaching an orgasm?
Thorr's friend stopped by and I left them playing a video game. Some people you have to worry about when they’re nursing a broken heart. Thorr is not one of them. He’s self-healing. He’ll adjust and move on. Bury him beneath a pile of rocks a hundred feet deep and he’ll climb his way out.
*I need to write here more often*
Life without love is like a tree without blossoms or fruit.