To Love

One night during an unpleasant conversation, my husband asked me what I wanted.

"I want to be loved.  I want someone to love me."

He was slightly shocked by my answer.  I think he thought I would ask for something unreasonable, like pink ponies and unicorns.  In other words, the impossible.

"I want to love and be loved in return.  Isn't that all we can hope for in life?"

At the same time, I am learning to let go.  Recently, I thought that I could never replace Jack.  He was there when our baby Ada died.  Ada was a full-term stillbirth delivered on her due date.  She was beautiful, looking more like Jack than me.  It didn't look like I was even involved in the process.

When Ada was delivered, I held her.  My amazement at holding and seeing the baby inside of me for nine months was overwhelming.  I was filled with joy, with some part of my brain hit with the trauma suppressing my grief for a few minutes to partake in her beauty.  While I was rapturous over this small wonder, Jack was crying, sobbing into my lap.  He was carrying the burden of grief while I glowed.

And then there was Michael.  My brother has schizophrenia.  My dad called Jack after Michael fell apart and changed the direction of my family forever.  Jack was a rock and stable.  Jack was such a part of my family that my father called him first, told him first, before he told me.  I will forever be grateful to Jack for that.

But a real relation needs a past, present and future.  I need to make sure this relationship has forward movement, a pulse that keep us going.  If I need to let go of the past to take care of the present and the future, I will.