A Lifetime and Beyond

I may have posted this a few months back....probably not in this exact format, but am reposting it today for Kathryn Esplin-Oleski's Wednesday Writing Essential.

I had often heard that true love would last a lifetime, but a lifetime and beyond? That seemed a little too hard to swallow. I'd seen lovers come and go. Some encounters were positively thrilling, filled with emotion, passion, and even a touch of intellect. Others were quite blasé, but helped to pass the time.

I was never privileged to observe the true love of a fully committed relationship. I seem to recall that my mother was constantly trying to get rid of my father. When she finally succeeded and their divorce became final, she had already initiated plans for getting rid of husband number two! It was becoming quite the vicious cycle.

The two women who provided me with my childhood stability were my paternal grandmother and my maternal great-grandmother. Both widowed fairly young in life, I was not privy to their womanly prowess and displays of marital bliss. I endured story after story about hard work, triumph over lean times, gifts fashioned from bits of cloth and scraps of wood, and how when the cupboard was bare their two fine men managed to provide for their families. I typically filed these tales in my mind's library on the same shelf with the "I used to walk a mile to school in a blizzard with no shoes" stories.

As I grew and experienced the heartaches and pains of young love I decided that true love was in fact a myth. I rationalized that the story had been passed from one generation to the next for so many generations that it had become an accepted part of our culture just like Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny. The concept was enchanting, but the reality just didn't quite cut it.

As a young adult I experienced and failed miserably at an attempt at marriage. Entering into it determined that it would be the answer to all voids, I learned sadly that it required a great deal more than I had bargained for. I was not only ill-equipped but completely uneducated in the field of relationships.

I decided to start seeking the advice of my elders. Little did I realize they had been trying to instill bits of wisdom into my heart and mind throughout my life. Had I blatantly disregarded their offerings of genuine love and concern? I don't think so. I believe instead that the mystery of childhood that protected me at times from the sorrow and pain I saw in my own home, had somehow created in me a magical place of refuge. I think whenever the talk got around to love, marriage, or relationships, I visited my haven. As a child I protected myself from love. As an adult I learned that love means allowing in the possibility of pain.

I learned to take chances. I became a bit more trusting of the world around me. Occasionally I even reached out to other people. I also started taking to heart the legacies my grandmother and great-grandmother were passing to me. When they reminisced of days gone by when their beloved husbands were alive, I soaked in every word like a sponge. From these stories I began gaining insight on values like trust and respect. Honesty had been an integral part of both of their marriages, and I paid special attention to the times when honesty had prevailed. I think I understood for the very first time why neither of these intelligent, attractive women had never remarried. Their sense of commitment ran so deep that to allow another into their hearts would have signified betrayal.

The greatest lesson on true love came to me as my great-grandmother prepared to leave this life. Her body was failing her. Wracked with excruciating pain, joints gnarled and swollen from severe arthritis, she remained mentally alert until her very last day on earth. Most of her final days were spent telling stories, recalling this person or that person, all of whom had gone before her. Still insisting that true love was in my future despite my miserable doubts, she continued to remind me of her love with my great-grandfather that she insisted spanned her entire lifetime and beyond. Knowing that I wouldn't have her much longer, and filled with a growing pain for the void her absence would create in my heart, I entertained her notions with smiles and nods. Little did I know she was right on the money.

On the last day of her life with me, my great-grandmother slowly let go of those faculties she had prided herself with maintaining for so long. She became confused and rambled. She forgot the name of one of her daughters. Some moments found her believing she was in the town where she grew up. But she always knew me. Right up to the end she called me by name and reached out to hold me close. At one point she insisted with a strength I'd thought was gone that I go home and attend to things there. Upon expressing my concern of leaving she said to me, "Lyn is in the next room, and he's waiting to take me home. We can't go if you're here."

Tears filled my eyes and a lump rapidly enlarged in my throat. I still don't think I recognized the significance to her words until later that night. I left, assuming that at this point her mind was gone, and she would remain that way for whatever short time, hours or days, she might have left.

I got a call a few hours later that she had passed away. At that moment it became quite clear what she was trying to tell me. It was to be her final gift to me. You see, Lyn was her husband. I now know that she knew with everything in her heart that he was, in fact, waiting to take her home. She willingly left with him because true love lasts a lifetime, and beyond.