Watching you...

“Watching you walk out of my life does not make me bitter or cynical about love. Rather makes me realize that if I wanted so much to be with the wrong person how beautiful it will be when the right one comes along.”

- Unknown

This spoke to me on many levels when I read it a few days ago. Some relationships end not so much because someone walked out, but because we became distracted, or injured, or simply lost- in the process of survival.

When I consider my kids, almost 14 and 16, and the choices I would make in the following 4 years at their age- it almost makes me breathless. And if I think of my mom, (who did her best, but did NOT do this), taking me by the shoulders and saying "YOU ARE TOO YOUNG!" I am bewildered by what I know my reaction would have been...stubborn and sure of my self..."I'm an Adult!!!"

Hardly.

Even now, at 40, I'm still a tad breathless and bewildered. (understatement) I look back over a list, though short, of relationships/friendships that have ended for whatever reason, and I can't help but ache over what I had hoped for.

I found a card yesterday as I was cleaning out the garage, it was from a blog friend who had sent it back in 2006. He died very unexpectedly a few months later. Suddenly I was overcome with a deep wave of regret and sadness. I had never met him, never spoken to him over the phone, but we loved to write to each other and I cherished his words to me, and he never failed to tell me how thankful he was to have met me- via our blogs.

He was a great deal like the older brother I never had and I honestly miss him. The ending of that relationship, because of death, led me to understand a few things I had not understood before, and in truth, even though he is gone- the relationship is not over. I fully believe he wanted me to find his card again yesterday, which I kept with me in my car for over a year after he died, to give me a little "hug" of sorts. To remind me that love exceeds the boundaries of time and space.

There is power in our written words, especially words we take the time to write on paper with pen or pencil and drop in the mail, or leave on a door step. The hand written letters of my Grandfather and Great Grandfather are worth more to me than any amount of money.

There are also letters I wish now I had not written. Letters penned in haste, or in a moment of passion, which I hope are now burned or buried in a trash pile. Though I do not posses those letters, my mind recalls the foolishness of my bubbling heart, or the brokenness my pen revealed in a puddle of heart ache and tears on paper.

I ache today, from the inside out. A physical issue plagues me at the moment (however, an outpatient surgery should manage it- scheduled for July 10th- keep me in your thoughts) and for some reason I find myself reflecting on love and losses in the past. I look ahead quickly for signs of hope- and I know they are there- but my climb over the next hill just feels a bit steep.

I hope to return soon- and I miss you all. I'm working on a post about a day last week which I spent with a Bee Keeper and about 100,000 bees... and I only got stung once!

Hugs and love- be well- all of you~