Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Where do you start
Do you allow yourself a little time to cry
Or do you close your eyes & kiss it all goodbye
I guess you try
And though I don't know where & don't know when
I'll find myself in love again
I promise there will always be
A little place no one will see
A tiny part within my heart
That stays in love
This is a song that I have always loved.
And I always believed that it was true. That we do own a piece of all we have loved.
I am around a lot of people who reminisce about the past. Most especially when I am visiting the elderly living in retirement homes.
These folks, men and women, are often in their eighties or older. They have lived long, healthy lives fraught with many challenges. They have such a wisdom about them. I love to visit them.
One thing they love to talk about is, well, love. Some say to me that their deceased husband or wife may not have been in fact the love of their life. They built a life with them and they indeed loved them. But the truth was that they always held a small piece of their heart for their first love, or for a sudden fling, or for an innocent flirtation that went no where except in their minds.
And they embrace this memory and do not feel ashamed. It gets them in touch with who they are, they say.
I like that.
And when I hear these stories, I am reminded that love, romantic love, comes in all shapes and forms.
Many of us reading this are married, or have been married. Some are single and have always been "single", but have had a series of relationships, some lasting longer than many marriages.
Some have fond memories, some have hurtful memories. Most times, there is a mix of the two. But they all make up a part of who we are.
I think sometimes we become wishful for that romantic feeling of love we once had. Perhaps that is why many do have affairs or ruin marriages to seek out that feeling again. I don't know. But it seems that way at times.
I do know that the month of May is prom season. Perhaps that is why I am thinking about romantic love. We do seem to equate romantic, innocent love with youth. After all, it has yet to be tainted by too much reality and disappointment. We still believe in the fairy tales, the happily-ever-after, the walk into the sunset.
But of course, after we have been down the road a ways, we realize, sadly, that that is simply not true. That people disappoint. That what we imagine sometimes doesn't happen. That love can hurt.
And we steel our hearts.
Or we pour our hearts into a new found love....our kids.
But kids grow up and leave. And relationships do change. And onward we move.
The wise elderly, however, they remind me that memories are okay to have. That looking back can be freeing in a way. That our hearts can stay open a bit. And that that is a good thing.
They tell me that we can own a piece of ourselves that does not belong to anyone but us. That we can feel that special feeling anytime we want to, really.
Just by closing our eyes and remembering.
One lady I see frequently is a 99 year old woman, Agnes, who listens to love songs on her ipod.
"They make me happy, not sad. I can still feel the embrace of a young lover that I lost. Yes, he was my lover. I am not ashamed. I was married to another man for 56 years, but this love swept me off of my feet and I love to return there once in awhile. It is happy there. I feel light, like I can fly when I visit the memory. And there is nothing wrong with flying once in a while."
Flying. Yes indeed. We all need more of that.
And when October goes
The same old dream appears
And you are in my arms
To share the happy years
I turn my head away
To hide the helpless tears
Oh how I hate to see October go
I should be over it now I know
It doesn't matter much
How old I grow
I hate to see October go