Finding the love of my life was great. It lasted thirty-three years. I never felt diminished through the years and I still enjoyed seeing his face every time I came home. I loved calling him up and hearing his voice and sharing a moment. I don’t regret having spent that much time, just how it ended. You see, it wasn’t about love.
It was about life and his inability to go on. He told me he shared his pain. He also committed suicide this year. He wrote me wonderful poetry about love and romance and also dark poetry of pain and sadness. At least I knew love and passion. Some never experience it in their life.
A friend gave me a mantra: It is what it is, you can’t change it, and now you go on. It’s all good.
You see after losing parents that we loved, you would think that was the worst. It’s not, it’s losing a soul mate.
I’m very strong. I'm grounded in reality. I accept what happened. I didn’t want it to happen. I even knew it might happen. I would always calmly give him an alternative to what was the inevitable. I’m not a depressed person, if anything I have an abundance of Serotonin. I’m a naturally happy person.
He called me his light and he was the dark. We counterbalanced each other. Then he decided that he didn’t want to drown his light in his sadness. You see the part of the mantra that is, it’s all good, well, I went through the worst. It’s all good compared to finding your loved one dead.
I always hoped it was just an escape clause that he would never use. Never assume. It always proves you wrong. So if I can help others recognize a sign, a mood, let me tell you, it’s not about love or the lack of it.
