Parting is all we know of heaven, and all we need of hell.
(Emily Dickinson)
He is on his way back to the airport now – this man I once loved, first loved, 30 years ago. Our reunion was sweet, poignant, and powerful. It was easy. It was excruciating. It was enough.
He is on his way back to the airport now – back to his life, even as I turn back to mine (I am blogging, after all). But we do not turn away.
He is on his way back to the airport now – but not the same as he was when he arrived here four days ago. I am changed, as well. He now knows, with acute clarity, that he is a man of integrity, honor, valor, determination, strength, and unlimited tenderness. He knows this because I knew, saw, and loved that in him 30 years ago. I now know, with acute clarity that I am a woman of impact, of worth, of wisdom, of beauty, of value, of unlimited passion. And I know this because he knew, saw, and loved that in me 30 years ago. We told stories, heard stories, and wove the years together – past to present. Such a gift.
It was hard to part, to say goodbye. And we did. Because that’s what we do. We hold on. We look back with gratitude. We move forward with intentionality, awareness, and hope. Always hope – for one another – for more heaven than hell.
I have known both these past four days: heaven and hell. But if I have learned anything in 30 years it’s that I can’t have one without the other. I can’t know the heights of joy without allowing the depths of despair. 27 years ago, our relationship ended in those depths – but not until after having drunk deep draughts of their opposite. We remembered both. We reflected. We wept. We laughed. Heaven and hell. Sweet. Poignant. Powerful.
The following quote was on my blog, dated November 13, 2009 – the day we first reconnected via phone after 27 years. Now, four-plus weeks and a reunion later, it still applies.
Passion, it lies in all of us, sleeping… waiting… and though unwanted… unbidden… it will stir… open its jaws and howl. It speaks to us… guides us… passion rules us all, and we obey. What other choice do we have? Passion is the source of our finest moments. The joy of love… the clarity of hatred… and the ecstasy of grief. It hurts sometimes more than we can bear. If we could live without passion maybe we’d know some kind of peace… but we would be hollow… Empty rooms shuttered and dank. Without passion we’d be truly dead.
(Joss Whedon)
I’m definitely not dead. Not then. Not now. No, I am hot on the trail of life.
Thanks, John.
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