As I continue to talk to Craig, we continue to exchange stories, memories and facts about our current lives. Beyond the usual recounting of daily events, every now and then he shares more details with me about losing the love of his life and one of their sons. I've been able to intellectualize the information and keep a safe distance between Craig and my heart. Until today.
Two things happened when Craig described dreams he's been having about Lynn and the days before her death. The first thing that happened was the loss of my ability to keep the information in my brain. Within seconds of reading today's email, I felt my eyes begin to sting and well-up with tears. It wasn't just the sadness of the story because it wasn't just any story. It was an intense sadness for Craig and his pain. I was feeling an empathy I don't know that I've ever felt before. It's not often that you actually feel pain and sadness for someone else's sadness. At least not at this level.
About an hour later, something much worse happened. I reread Craig's email so that I could reply (too busy crying to reply earlier) and something became crystal clear to me: I will never know that kind of love. Sure, perhaps I will feel it for someone, but no one has ever or will ever feel that for me.
If I were to die today, no one would continue to dream about me a year and a half later. No one would continue to mourn me after all that time and they certainly will not tell another woman that they may never be able to love her because they are still so in love with me. I have never, and likely will never, know that kind of love and care from another person. And all I can do is wonder why?
1 comment:
Some of us know you better dear.
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