“The highest tribute to the dead is not grief but gratitude.”
― Thornton Wilder
This is the second in my Gratitude series. Click for Gratitude Day One.
Today I am grateful for one-of-a-kind, perhaps once-in-a-lifetime LOVE.
The first time I met my Love was 30 October 2005. At Baker’s Square. Late in the evening. I was dead tired after a day with my mom and my nieces out of town. He was just back from the trip that had cancelled our first scheduled meet-up. I woke up the next day to this e-mail:
“Lisa, it would be very easy to write to you and say that I enjoyed meeting you tonight. I cannot do that. You exceeded my expectations. You are a beautiful woman, despite the fact that you were half asleep. Even this made me feel privileged to meet with you, because it means to me that you wanted to meet me as much as I wanted to meet you. I only hope that we meet again and when we are both energetic … Love, Larry”
Who wouldn’t melt at that? Silly question, I know.
As we continued to get to know each other, the e-mails continued. His trips out of town were frequent. We spent a lot of time on the phone getting to know each other.
By 26 November we were all-in. I woke up to this e-mail:
“Lisa: What a rush!!!! I woke up this morning, half awake and sluggish, to find on my computer not one but two emails you sent me… I was warmed by your sentiments and needed to take a shower to cool down. We have only known each other for a short time, but I have come to enjoy your wit, your love, and your personality. You also have a gift of prose that I can only imagine, as I am not as great a writer as you… My heart felt pain for your past. It also deepened my resolve to make you as happy as I can. I, too, have emotional baggage from the past, which to describe to you know would fill a book… We come from different backgrounds, each of us shaped by our experiences. I am thrilled that there is a you, who is open and giving as I… I want to see you, hold you, talk with you, cook with you, absorb your energy, and be one with you. To say anymore would be repetitive. Love, Larry”
I spent quite a bit of time at his apartment. Even when he was out of town. It was quiet. Comforting.
One of the weekends when he was home, I was sitting on the floor helping him sort clothing from a trip- prepping nether regions of undergarments for laundering- he was horrified. I shrugged it off, telling him that it was just part of the process.
He later said that was the instant he fell in love with me. My response: “Of course love would involve shit…”
Let me tell you, love involves the shit with the unicorns and butterflies. One has to learn to accept that unicorns and butterflies shit as well as look pretty. Sometimes there is more love, sometimes more shit, sometimes it turns to shit in the end. But shit is just part of the process of life, living, and love. Seeing the love through the shit is the key.
In retrospect, a love like Larry and I shared was rare. A gift.
He was the head-in-the clouds dreamer, flowery writer, cried at movies, sensitive one. I am the realist, all out there in your face, take-me-as-I-am, fuck the world, if I am sensitive I’ll never let you know one.
Neither of us perfect, but perfect for each other. Regardless of past or present circumstances, love was present. Always. We never lost sight of our love for each other. Even when mired in a shit-storm.
… to be continued
PS- Yes, I am crying… tears=healing.