On the End of Love

October 7, 2008

I came across a fascinating, thought provoking question yesterday: ‘You are on a plane that’s about to crash. You have time to make ONE phone call. Who do you call and what do you say?’

The simple answer is I would call my ex, B____, and tell her I love her no matter what.  That doesn’t explain why.  This does.  There’s no fiction in this creative work, it’s 100% true.


It started with that I had to overcome huge obstacles to make it happen, and she was heartbroken not to see me for Christmas. With two miracles and some grace, it happened. I left from New Hampshire in a blizzard, landed in Kansas in even more snow, and was carried by angels the whole way. She wasn’t expecting me, and when I came through the door she went catatonic, her breath caught. I flew half way across the country; I had roses. and cookies for the kids. and a gift.
and my heart, right there out in the open. I couldn’t hide it, it’s not like I can afford this kind of thing every day. week. year.

She was still not really herself when she started saying “hi” but somehow she managed to walk over and hug me, clumsily. It was like she was sleep walking, like it wasn’t real. she said “hi” again, and again, several times over, trying to make it sound different, sound right. she was so blown away, and I was so happy to see her. She didn’t believe I was there. I told her: “My love is not bound by time and space, it cannot be held back by thousands of miles or insurmountable obstacles. I’m here; I love you.”

We cuddled on the couch, in front of the fireplace. Nothing else, just holding eachother. We were so warm and so beautiful. Even when I left she found it hard to believe I’d ever been there. The roses were undeniable though.

And now it’s my heart breaking. All my patience and quiet acceptance and incredible struggle just to hold us together was not enough. She can’t be with me, and I will not suffer that rejection again. My love for her will always be there, smoldering quietly behind everything. Regardless of my desire for it to leave or to stay, it will always be there,
like a ghost.

I cannot hope for it to leave, but I can move on; I have moved on.

© 2008