What a gift this pain is! Each stinging memory, every burning thought that brings tears to my eyes is a poignant and precious reminder of the love that caused it. Had there been less to lose, I might not have even noticed its loss.
But this? This is a grand celebration of that rare and lovely thing that carried me to the mountaintop and turned my face to the light. It is a goodie bag filled with soft dreams and an imagination stuffed to the brim with stories and thoughts so brilliant they fed my body even as they fed my soul.
Each priceless tear carries a smile, or grimace, a laugh, or look that once was part of the reflection in my eye. Every long sigh empties my lungs and forces them to refill themselves for the next, but it is the breath running across my quivering lips that sends shivers down my back, reminding me that that moment has passed and a new one will never be the same.
Priceless moments, a veritable museum of antiquities that are framed and hung along the walls of this person I am, but wait! What is that?
A magnanimous gesture, an act of selflessness and pure goodness flashes before me and my slide down into the valley of darkness slows down! Is it possible that there is life after love? Can it be that love lost only deepens the groove for love to come? Is it shallow to be so easily turned from terrifying black hole, to a creature of wonder?
I don’t think so. I think it is only the life line being tuned so that it vibrates more closely to the loving lines all around it. A sign that the last love was a great one, a harbinger of things to come, one moment in the midst of a flower garden of moments, each one sweeter and more beautiful than the last.
One flower is plucked from my life so that I might see the hand that is tending the garden.
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