Thursday, March 31, 2016

The Weight of Your Life

I lost someone this week.
Technically, the last day of last week, on Easter Sunday.
And also technically, we lost her.  As a collective group of humans.  

We all lost her together.

 I never know how to respond to moments like this.  They seem to be happening more often as I age, which I think is normal.  At least, people say it is.  People who have been there.  People who have had the unwelcome and unfortunate experience of losing.

It's a strange thing, the word "lost."  Especially when used in the context of death.  Because it's not as if they've been misplaced.  We know exactly where they are, it is we who are lost.  We are the ones suddenly without someone who had just been there moments before.

My thoughts often tumble around, mixing with my feelings on the matter, getting stuck and tangled.  I sometimes blurt out a random memory or idea at the strangest times.  Just allowing my mind to process it the way that it does, because fighting it would be tragic and even more painful.  I keep thinking about the very obvious absence of her.  The movement of the earth as she departed it—subtle, yet undeniable.

It's odd... the weight of a soul.  Especially a soul such as hers.  When alive, you are aware of their soul, of their life and heart.  It's clear in their eyes and speech and expression.  But I have never felt the weight of a soul like when it departs.

An absence exists.  One that I feel on every level of my conscience.  Someone was there, and now they have left.

And the weight, the abstract, beautiful shape of their soul...  Have I taken the time to enjoy it while she was here?  Did I notice the big and little details that added up to all that was her?


There were things I missed.  Things I ignored.

Until I felt the weight of her soul suddenly lost to me.

But of course there's more, I think to myself.  Of course souls do not simply cease being.  They're too grand and too important and too heavy.

My faith is such that I absolutely believe in more.  In better.  In paradise.  I believe that the weight of a soul, unable to be measured by our meager and limited sciences, finds, at last, perfect rest.

I believe this goodbye is temporary.

And I am so looking forward to seeing her again.

Friday, March 18, 2016

Being In Love With You

I had never planned on falling in love with an explorer.

I had no idea how to prepare for such a thing.  I had believed love would always be messy and painful and a terrible thing to find yourself in.  Explorers love the adventure.  They don't give their heart to anything but the wind and wherever it wants to carry them next.  How does an explorer fall in love when they've been in love with the unknown since the day they were born?

But how quickly your lips became the only place I ever wanted a kiss to land.  How incredibly fast was the decision in my heart to follow you into oblivion if you so chose.  Your tendency to run first and look later has always had my stomach in knots.  But I would be a fool to let go of your hand.  

I began this journey with you intending to love you even if you never loved me in return.  Even if I was the only one risking my heart, I told myself I didn't mind.  That loving you was a privilege.  That loving you would be galaxies better than not.  Your mind is complex and its depth is immeasurable.  I wanted to walk among the forest of your soul for as long as you would allow.  I swam in your stories of discovery and music and I pretended like I could make a home there.  I could hide a piece of myself in your many layers and then even if we ended, a part of me would be with you always.  I loved you without being careful.  I loved you foolishly and obsessively.  I loved you in all the silly ways a girl loves a boy.

But then you started to love me back and a new chamber of my heart began to beat for the first time. 

Being loved by you has been the grandest adventure of my life.

You love me the only way an explorer can.  You love me in the questions and the lines drawn and crossed.  You love me in your constant quest of getting my laugh, my smile, my joy.  You love me in your careful yet unrepentant challenges to my comfort zone.  You love me in the push.  

Sometimes you reach for me in the middle of the night, just to be sure I'm still there.  It wakes me, and I don't mind.  Because it's a midnight reminder that you even think of me in your dreams.  A thing I never expected, but now find I don't want to live without.

As time passes, I grow more accustomed to your ways.  It doesn't scare me when you ask to see inside.  Because, even though you may appear to be a brash and bold conqueror of things unknown, you are gentle with me.  Protective.  You stand guard outside my heart and you will fight to keep the dark from penetrating.

And these actions have only made you more desirable to me.  I never grow tired of the new discoveries I make as you let me shamelessly explore the forest of your existence.  I had no idea a person could be so complicated and vastly beautiful.  If I go too long without seeing you, I begin to crave you.  The way a person craves fresh air after having been penned inside for too long.  I need your ideas and words and dreams.  I need to feel you growing and building and exploring.

And you give yourself to me.  

I know I'm the only one allowed to see the raw and untamed portions of your heart.  I know that I'm the only person allowed to run with you, side by side.  Take me with you always. 

As we grow older, I realize how rare it is what we've found, what we fight for.  I am thankful.  I am humbled.  And I am very much in love.  With you. 

I never planned on falling in love with an explorer.  Looking back, how could I not?