“You know what the beautiful part is though?” My grandmother said, smiling up at me. “The beautiful part is that even as you open up to love, to vulnerability, it can hurt. There will still be pain, but in that opening, there is room for light, for healing, for maturation. And no matter what the other person chooses, or how they act, if you stand in your love and open to healing, to possibility, the universe sees that.”
“It’s easy to get caught up in ‘well, they did this or they did that’ or letting your emotions get the best of you, how you see them from one moment to another. The trick is to start hearing and seeing these patterns- and then? And then there is an opportunity to see, to accept, that even when you’re scared or angry or sad or hurt that maybe it isn’t their fault, maybe it was just a miscommunication that led to you both feeling pain.”
“From there you can ask yourself, ‘Is this worth it?’ She paused to look and see if I was still listening - I was. ‘Is this fight worth losing the person I love because of the way I’m seeing this?’”
She turned around to look out the window, at the ravens flying overhead and the ice-covered shoreline, with its occasional snow rider passing on the distant edge, across the other side of Back Bay - her eyes the same colour as the dark spruce scattered across the snowy hills in front of my Ndilo trailer.
“You have to know that there are no answers, and that work you do with your own self - that is the healing, the path to new ways of loving - nurturing that little flame in your heart, and your mind-space - that is how you bring yourself home, my girl. From there this universe guides you, showers you with unexpected blessings - from there you get to listen to your heart and the stars and the land opens up, and your family becomes the mountains.”
“From there you can learn to listen to love and learn from everything. From there, my girl, no matter what another person chooses - you can keep on calling to the stars, and love, and your creativity - you can love and love and love and love.”
“And that is the real healing.”
“That’s when change begins to make sense. When change becomes the meaning of meanings…”
I could tell our time was coming up. She always grew vaguely poetic before making her exits, as if the quiet drift of her words was symbolic of her soon-to-be drifting off presence.
“You’re going to be okay, my girl. You’re going to be better than okay. See yourself, see your love and your work and don’t forget that - I see you forgetting sometimes. Be the joy you see in the stars each morning and love everything. Know that this is all exactly how it’s supposed to be and everything is what it is that it ought to be. Isn’t that scary and wonderful at the same time?”
She smiled one last time, leaving me still asking myself what she had just said - looking so deeply into my eyes that I was lost in her gaze for a minute - my dearest grandmother - and then she was gone - the warmth of her presence in the air all around me.
A Different Kind Of Love Letter
I miss you and easier days.
I miss making you laugh.
Maybe things could have been different.
Maybe not, you know?
I know that I, more than anything, am grateful to know I am not only still a lover -
I’m more of one than I ever really knew.
I didn’t know I wanted safety like this.
Or stability.
Or to be a gentle lover.
I didn’t know how much I wanted the patience to become one.
Or how much I want to grow, and learn, to be ever more loving.
I want to be safe, in love, and not nearly so scared.
And I don’t want to test love the way I feel like I tested us and you… without even realizing it.
Of course we had to walk away.
It’s okay.
I mean, it’s not… It still hurts.
But I hope you know that I was more angry with myself,
than I ever was with you.
And I never meant to give up like that.
I thought I was going to be so strong and tough and resilient.
I thought I had us, and could hold us and you.
I’m not sure what happened.
Maybe it was just too much for our little flame,
all this pressure and change.
I wish I could go back and do things differently.
To start things over.
But, instead, I hope you can forgive me - forgive us -
in whatever way that takes shape
know that I loved you in my own way.
That I learned so much from you and us and this love.
And that if this is all we were meant to be then I will take the best of us
and walk away knowing I am softer and more loving
and wiser through these mistakes,
better equipped to face the future and love, thanks to this love, time, shared space. .
And that I won’t run away from love, next time.
I can promise you that.
If anything, I won’t be such a little ptarmigan, next time,
if love ever enters my life again like this.
Mahsi for loving me in the ways that you did - for kissing me sweetly,
making love to me in the early morning, and holding me through the night.
Because this is all learning.
And most of all, mahsi, for the reminder
that is the sweetness of love.