Losing Love
Blog Post # 100
My journey is almost at an end and in another week I will return home. If you've been following me from the start four months ago, you know I began this adventure with a heart so devastated that I was certain recovery wasn't possible. The man I loved had, I slowly discovered, given his heart to someone who still held it completely, eight years after her death. For most of my life, I probably would have settled for less than, thinking I wasn't someone who really deserved more.
But when he and I had what turned out to be our final conversation, something inside me cried out in protest. When you believe you have something you've longed for all of your life, that something so breathtakingly beautiful has finally happened to you, only to find out it was a lie, you have to take a hard look at the choices before you.
My choices were to continue to accept less than...or not.
I chose not.
Maybe it was cowardly coming overseas to escape, but I kept thinking maybe I could outrun the pain.
I couldn't.
It was with me every moment like a silent companion, from the moment I woke up (aside from those few blessed seconds of temporary amnesia before it all came crashing back on me) to the minute I went to sleep, and sometimes, too often, even in my sleep as I dreamed of him. It is with me still, constant, hovering, never gone for long, if at all.
This blog began after a conversation I had with a couple in an English B&B who told me their beautiful, heartbreaking story of love and loss. As I traveled throughout dozens of countries in Europe, I continued talking to people, listening to their stories and then, with their permission, sharing them with you. And I learned that you can live with pain, accept it as part of your life...and life can still be beautiful. My love for him was beautiful and still is. It was pure and devoted and whole hearted. I loved him the way I wanted to be loved, arms open wide, ready to embrace life.
Although we will not have our life together as I'd dreamed, I've found on this journey that I cannot regret loving him because for a while, I felt the utter joy of loving him. I felt that shivery thrill of watching the man I adored walk into a room. I felt my heart soar every time I heard his voice. I felt the enormity of having his heart (or so I thought) in my safekeeping and I took that responsibility seriously. I felt the overwhelming tenderness of communicating my love for him through my lips, my hands, my body.
From the stories you have all so kindly shared, I know that what happened in the end does not have to cancel out all that came before. Love is incandescent. Love is shattering. But no matter if your story has a happy ending or a sad one, the important thing is that love existed.
And for however long it existed, it transformed you.
Thank you for being a part of my journey.
My name is Finland Warner, and I have been transformed. Peace and love to you all.
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