Left Unsaid

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To mourn is to love again. – Robert Karen, Ph.D, The Forgiving Self

Over vacation, I ate meals with my most treasured people.  What feels better than the assumption of intimacy? Unguarded arguments, words that get right to the point.  The way you asked, “What about you, sweetie?”  Or gently turned my face toward buried dreams, because there is no time to waste.  Or let me say, “I can’t believe that happened to you.  How can I help?” when help was the last thing you imagined.  I slept on your sofas, left dishes in your sink, inconvenienced you with picky eating – and worse. But to no avail.

You love me still.  And I do you.  Let’s just go on in our way, together, until there isn’t any further to go.

 

 

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