My Love, My Truth
| by Anonymous |
We had the kind of love most people only dream about. So mutual. So intimate. I never tired of hearing his voice, looking at that face. After many years I still felt that warm feeling when he walked in the room. And I could be myself with him and him with me. There was nothing we couldn’t talk about or share and the ultimate lesson that we took away from this relationship is that relationships aren’t work—they need care and protection—but nothing like work. We didn’t need to “one-up” each other. We didn’t need to be “right.” We could argue without resolution. And, boy could we. Because he was married, and did not choose to leave his wife.
I look back without regret because the years spent with him were the best of my life. He was the love of my life, my best friend, my soulmate, my kindred spirit. The many years of secrets and lies to maintain this love affair took its toll but that is not why it ended. He is gone. Two years gone from a recurrence of cancer. I was with him when he was diagnosed, initially, and after a year of treatment he had 4 good years before it came back. It came back with a vengeance and he was gone in 2 months. The four years between his last treatment and his death were like no other. Of course we could not have predicted the return and the speed with which he was gone but we enjoyed each other. Every minute together intense in a peaceful way and full of joy. We were still planning right up to the end all of the things we wanted to share in this lifetime. I am counting on eternity. That I will one day see him again, and have him all to myself.
I grieve alone. Only a handful of my friends knew about him and only one of his friends. I miss him with all of my being. There are times of the year that I long to share with him: the changing of the seasons, the summer solstice, fall. There are sights and smells and sounds that bring him close to me even now: Sunsets, mountains, waterfalls, the bluest skies, bike trails, Springsteen. But I am mostly not sad. Every memory is a piece of our story. The memories make me laugh, they make me smile and they make me cry. I see him there in the blue of the sky, the changing of the leaves, the majesty of the mountains and the beauty of canyons. We traveled together and shared so much. I miss us.
It has been 2 years and I still feel like we have a relationship. I sense him with me and I speak to him daily. But he isn’t here. I am not crazy but I have carried on with our love. I won’t maintain this forever but I know the basis of our relationship, undying love, has not changed. I long for his touch…to hear his voice and to see his smile. We talked about our adventures long after they were over. We would relive the vacations and times we spent together over and over in conversations and stories. I know now how important that was as each time we retold a story we etched it in our minds; painted a picture and created a lasting memory. Those memories sustain me. They make me smile, laugh, cry and remember like it was yesterday. I don’t speak of him much due to the nature of our relationship. How I would love to tell the people who I love that I had this love. That I was loved and loved with all of my heart and soul. Not having those to share my story makes the grieving harder I think, very lonely, but it doesn’t take away what was real to me, to us.
Outsiders would and will ask why he didn’t leave her. How could I live like this? I got the best of him. I don’t judge him and while I would have loved nothing more than to wake up with him every morning and fall asleep in his arms every night the time I spent with him was magical. He did not share a bed with her. Theirs was an unconventional marriage that I don’t begin to understand. For me to dwell on that serves no purpose. I know what we were together. I believe that if there is a life after this life that he will be with me. In the words of Bruce Springsteen (and we said this to each other well before we knew his fate) “We said we’d walk together, baby come what may. That come the twilight should we lose our way. If as we’re walking, a hand should slip free, I’ll wait for you and should I fall behind wait for me.”
The last time I saw him before he died he said “You are the love of my life and the life in my love.” The idea of “moving on” is not on my radar. I will never say never but he can’t be replaced. I will always love him, this I know. I am not sure how to put this love away, until we meet again, but I am a work in progress. He would want for me to have what I want. I want to be happy; to know peace and contentment. I have that now. I am trying not to give myself deadlines on my grief or a timeline on when it might feel right to try to love again. Maybe that will be never and that’s ok. As I “speak my story” I realize that there really are no words to describe what we had as it was a love that truly was, in his words, sweeter than life itself.