My partner and I recently visited a neighbor who had lost his wife in January. They were together for fifty years.
For fifty years they were love.
For fifty years he worshipped her.
For fifty years a love affair.
For fifty years if their love is anything like mine, there was passion in the form of brilliant sex and fights and highs and lows.
And now he is angry that she is gone. He is angry that the end of her life was all about changing her diapers and lifting her when she fell and then she died and he is left with all the grief and nothing defining him anymore.
He put her love letters into a book with pictures of them over the years. He writes her poems every day.
I sat next to him on his chair on the sand and I cried and touched his arm as he opened the book of love letters to read us some.
He was one of the saddest humans I have held space for. I knew as we spent time with him that I was there to give him a chance to be heard, even though it was really hard for us to hear it all as he was lost in grief and anger at the loss.
I also knew that I was there with my partner, on the sand that day because love is my superpower.
I love hard. Deep. Strong.
When I am grounded my love is a gift. When I am scared, flailing in my life my love can be hard to hold, it can push people away.
I struggle with letting others love me. The receiving of love feels almost impossible some days. I can hear my love say, "I love you," and within minutes not be able to believe it or feel it. Like it gets flung into space the moment it is given to me and I look up to the sky curious as to what could be up there.
There is a little gap in my love superpower. It can't be truly whole unless I practice letting others love me, show up for me.
I think some days I am holding up the world and if I stop, if I let my guard down and show vulnerability or I ask for help or I just simply let others control some of it, the world will crack.
And in that crack everything I love and have worked for will fall into that crack in the world and I will be alone with no one to love.
What I am being taught through other's love for me is that the crack is actually there. The crack is mine. It is in my heart, my soul. It is my damage. My baggage. My old stories and fears.
The only thing I am holding up by trying to love without letting others do for me is an unwillingness to be free inside of love.
Love is my superpower. And there is a crack inside of it.
That crack is my healing place. It is where my anger flows so it may be released into fears that may be released into sadness that may be released into a smile that may be released into joy that may be released into melting into the love from others as I learn to feel it.
I love hard. Deep. Strong.
And I am loved hard. Deep. Strong.
Love is my superpower. And I will receive it. I will feel it.
We left our neighbors house and processed the experience together. We poured a glass of wine and sat outside and talked about the parts of his story that made an impact on us, and the way the love had turned into so many other feelings.
We talked about how our love had made us believe in a forever again. In fifty years, though I want sixty. Our love is changing me forever. Healing me. Our love is messy and raw and sometimes makes me want to run so fast because I am so scared of the anger and grief that comes up for us as we are healing our wounds.
I keep thinking about our neighbors love and sadness. His love affair and how I knew we needed to be there for him on this day.
Because love is how superpower.
Because we love hard. Deep. Strong.
Especially in the cracks.