Saturday, October 27, 2012
I AM A GHOST WHISPERER
We think we know what it is. We delude ourselves.
Take love and its loss.
You can decide love was all for nothing if it had to end in death with you alone
You can realize that every moment of your love had more meaning than you dared to recognize at the time,
so much meaning it would have scared you if you had looked at it square on,
so you just lived,
just took for granted the love and laughter of each day, and didn't allow yourself to consider the fragile preciousness of it.
But when it's over and you're alone,
you begin to see that it wasn't just a movie and a dinner together,
not just watching sunsets together,
not just painting a room or washing dishes together or worrying over how to pay the bills.
It was everything,
it was the why of each day, every event and precious moment of two hearts become one.
The answer to the mystery of living is the love you shared imperfectly but truly,
and when the loss one day whispers the deeper beauty of the treasure you shared, to the sacredness of it,
you can't get off your knees for a long time,
you're driven to your knees not by the weight of the loss but by the gratitude for what preceded the loss.
Not that the ache isn't always there, mind you,
but one day not the emptiness,
because to embrace the emptiness, to take solace in it, is to cheapen the gift that blessed your days.
When you awaken to that dawn of the soul, a door opens and words are feeble things to describe what enters.
At that moment, you become a ghost whisperer.