Last weekend I sat on the floor of my beautiful rental home sifting through old paperwork I needed to file or trash. Next to me, there on the floor, sat a colorful pile of cards 6-8" high. Most from my sweet former partner. I'd placed them there weeks earlier trying to decide what to do with them. Did I keep them? All of them? Did I re-read the notes in blocky handwriting again? Allow myself to revisit my sweetie's description of our love journey over the last 14 years? After quickly dealing with the business paperwork, creating a pile of papers to shred, I scooted over to the colorful pile, my heart unsure, tender.
Flipping through the stack without opening the cards, a few rogue pictures slip out. One of us at a friend's wedding. I'm doing a handstand wearing a purple dress and black leggings. He's holding my legs up, sitting on a giant fallen log, smiling at the camera through the narrow V my legs create. Both of us are laughing, mouths wide open. It's a silly moment. The signs of early love so apparent.
Next, a headshot of him. A bright white background, the photo is small, a perfect square, chopped to the right dimensions for a passport application. His worn cobalt blue fleece calls out his steely blue eyes. The very same eyes I couldn't help but notice the moment I'd met him for the first time. Deep. Tender. Right there. His gentle demeanor stares back at me as tears begin to fall. What do I do with all the love I still feel for him? With the outpouting of gratitude I feel as I read his words, one by one, slowly moving through the stack of cards he's written. One for each Christmas, birthday, Valentine's Day. Beautiful words of acknowledgement. His love is unconditional, accepting.
Reading back through his words I'm reminded of what I already know: He's never needed me to be anything other than who I am, never asked me to love what I do not, always encouraged me to do what feels true even if it means one day we will have to let one another go. Which is exactly what we've both now decided we need to do: let our intimate partnership go, morph and change, let the gift of love we've given to one another flourish and grow even as we grow apart, explore new horizons, open ourselves to even more of what we love. The love that began with unconditional acceptance ending much the same.
I've never known love like this before. An amazing force that can't help but live on. Grow. Even after letting go. The love we shared propels us both forward now, towards more love.
I glance out the window, smiling through my tears. Beauty surrounds me. Acres of sunny pastures and established forest. Views of charcoal blue waters, patches of light and fuzzy shadow created by puffs of clouds. I couldn't have imagined loving a place or home like this when we met 14 years ago. Couldn't have tolerated feeling this good. Wouldn't have been brave enough to allow myself to do something so new and unfamiliar like living on an island alone.
Most of all, I never could have trusted that letting so much love go could lead to even more love, deeper love. But that's exactly what it seems to be doing. For both of us.
Sifting through the rest of the cards, I decide to keep some, let go of others, tear off the front, keeping half of the card for the rest. Walking downstairs to the recycling bin, I let joy well up, more tears fall. The rush of gratitude for the gift of love we've given to one another can't help but pour through me. Because I now know what unconditional love feels like. I think we both do. And I can now trust letting it go, allowing the flood of gratitude to remain always with me. I can now open myself to what love will become next. An ode to love.