#333: Love, Loss, and the Space Between
When I read Amanda's blog, it reminded me - ironically - of something I wrote in a journal after one of my own walks at this very same state park:
"I've experienced the highs in my life like racing towards a cliff and catching myself at the very edge. Adrenaline pumping through my veins. Sweat and wind reminding me I'm here. And at the same time I'm on a precipice. Knowing it could all be lost with one wrong step. One gust of wind I cannot control, I cannot see. And I'm fully aware I cannot experience emotion of such magnitude without the other side of it: Awe without fear. Wonder without uncertainty. Love without loss."
On Valentine's day we often think of love, and that's a wonderful thing to celebrate. Amanda's blog reminds me to use this day to remember the love I have been fortunate to experience in every place and person in my life, even if I have lost them in some way over time.
- Christina
Love, Loss, and the Space Between
I took a long walk this morning with my dogs to a state park near my house. The gravel trail winds in and out of trees adjacent to the hudson river. I've walked these very same steps in the past with many different loved ones who have come and gone. I’ve had picnics in the field with friends who have now moved away. I’ve done yoga near the weeping willow tree as my old dog who has since passed laid in the shade. On one of the benches facing the river, I shared a first date with someone who would later become my world. On another bench a bit further down, I wrote my dad's eulogy.
Having these recollections today actually made me quite sad. I started thinking of what and who I no longer have. After being reminded of these losses, I decided to take a breath and veer off the trail into the open field where there was a flat rock to sit on. I didn't expect the nostalgia to suddenly weigh on me the way it did, so heavy that it literally brought me to the ground in tears. I hoped no one would see me besides my dogs, who with great concern in their eyes, started frantically licking my wet face. I found that very act to be so damn sweet, I began crying more.
While sitting there holding all the memories and an old tissue, I thought of my dad. He was an interesting guy because, despite his rather masculine and large physical appearance, he had a really sensitive and gentle soul. By the way he would always joke around with us, with friends, with strangers, you'd be fooled into assuming he was a pretty happy dude. But he struggled a lot emotionally.
I thought back to a specific time when I was in high school visiting him in Florida. We were cruising on his motorcycle through the humid air when he stopped to get gas. As I watched him fill the tank, I could tell in how he looked off into the distance that it was one of his harder days. He lived by himself, and had been saying how lonely he always felt there in his house. That it was the wrong decision to move. Our advice and support didn't usually help when he got into a negative state, but I tried anyway and told him that maybe he should get out more. That socializing and having plans to look forward to could help. As he turned to put the nozzle back in place he goes:
"And see who? I have no friends."
I knew I couldn’t heal these somber thoughts he often had, especially not at that moment in time. And we rode off.
Though I was underage, we went into a local bar to hang and have dinner. When we stepped in, he said he was going to the restroom. I was about to find a seat when I heard someone scream, "VINNY!" I looked over to see this woman run up and hug him. Within seconds, I saw her throw her head back laughing. Then, I saw an older couple stumble over to him as well, the man shaking his hand, a huge smile across his face. I watched for a moment at this little circle around him now forming. He called over to me and introduced me to the group. Before I knew it there was a Jack and Coke in his hand and he was in conversation with yet another fellow around his age.
Of course I don't remember all the details, but I do remember what one woman yelled into my ear at one point over the loud music. "Oh, Amanda. Your dad is just the best. He has my husband and I in tears laughing whenever we’re all out. He's our favorite person to run into. Everyone LOVES him around here."
For some reason, the vivid memory of this night and all those smiling people came to me as I sat. It reminded me that oftentimes, I too get stuck in a poor mindset that literally has the power to distort reality. Emotions, though they are very real, can create an irrational perspective when I get too tangled in them. In my case that morning, they were taking my wonderful memories near the river and altering them into something they were not - complete loss. But weren’t they something else? Weren’t they also maybe love?
This reminded me of the Buddha quote: “Our life is a creation of our mind.” I think it really is. I may always feel a sense of lingering nostalgia each time I walk that memory-filled trail, but with a slight shift in perspective, I can also think back on those same memories and realize that what sits next to the sadness is love. I can instead start to think fondly of the joy and love I once experienced.
About an hour later, I rounded the final turn of the trail and looked back at the river. It was literally sparkling beneath the sun. It had been shimmering this way my entire walk. I just hadn’t noticed. With the mountains in the background and a clearer set of eyes, the whole scene before me became absolutely beautiful.
This Valentine’s Day, I feel so fortunate for the love of family, friends, partners, colleagues, pets, strangers, and people from both my past and the present. Many have changed my life. I realize that while I can’t dictate or control what emotions come up at any given moment in time especially in regards to life and love, I can decide the outlook I take on those circumstances once the emotions have eased a bit. Or… I can just find a different trail to walk. But I don’t know if it'd remind me of how many wonderful possible connections with others in this world there can be.