Remember the days.
I loved you
And you loved me It was all
As it was meant To be
Such loving warm Tenderness within Your arms
I wanted to love and be loved.
The consequence of loving. Is loss.
(Trust no one)
Deep within my being there was released a torrent. I became the void.
I have come to know abandonment and separateness as the consequence of loving. Of loving him.
Closure is not a priority to the one who can provide it.
We learn more about a person in a breakup than we do when we’re together. I felt I had the capacity for limitless love. Infinite intesmal love that oozed and bled and undulated beyond time and space. Beyond feeling, beyond all knowing. This was the space I inhabited. Then loss appeared again, laughing at me and I was pushed through the gates of hell. I discovered, quite unwillingly that I am in fact built to suffer and dance achingly with loss and the deepest, most heart wrenching disappointment. I learned to fathom, then to carry with me what I dreaded, that I wished to avoid at all costs. Grief became a daily ritual. Hope for the future was replaced by mourning our past and shrinking from the present. I became a factory of tears, an ocean of unwavering. implacable sadness.
I moved to a town I had no business moving to and I cried in the forest. I cried in the mountains. My tears sat next to me on the bus. My head rested upon tall pines. I was overcome, shook with rage and fear and toxic shame and the overwhelm. I cried a hole in a cushion cover. The hole is heart shaped (true story.) I ache in the pines and the smoky forests and the moss and vermillion icy waters and I cried some more, the tears, they were my new companion, rivulets down my cheeks where once I was flushed with feverish joy. I became the table for one in the sad forest.
I became the void. The dark night of the soul has nothing on me.
Karen Lindblad, Banff, Alberta