If You’re Going To Love Me…
One thing that is becoming infinitely clear to me on this day of grief is how deeply and completely I love when I love.
I throw myself wholeheartedly into the verb and the abstract noun of love, and although this has not always served me well, it is the only way I know how to love a person. With my whole self, as imperfect as it is.
And writing this new understanding on this day brings tears to my eyes. I am filled with what feels like an infinite capacity to love and no one to extend it to. And maybe that’s the purpose of this alone time: to remember that the same infinite capacity to love another person can be turned inward. A reminder that no matter how unworthy I feel at times of great joy and love, I do deserve it, and if nothing else, I can turn this boundless love on myself.
I can’t remember who gave me the candle above on the first anniversary of Dane’s death. It’s meant to be burned all the way down after that first terrible year in remembrance. But I couldn’t bring myself to do it, and I have moved it to three different households, but finally, I felt like I could burn it all the way down on this 11th anniversary.
Today, Dane has been with me in this flame, a reminder that I have had someone love me the way that I deserve to be loved: the verb, the noun, and all of the other parts of speech. It was imperfect, as we all are, but it was what love should be: given freely and completely and with the entirety of a person.
And that love is worth fighting for and suffering for and working at. It is not easy, but it is worth it. And I am not going to suffer the insecurity and self-doubt of anything less. If you’re going to love me, you’re going to have to be all in.
