Memories of Love

"...the voice of love, the voice that in these moments of disarray she had forgotten existed, the voice of love, which caresses and soothes her but for which she is not quite ready: as if that voice were coming from far off, from too far off; she would need to hear it for a good long while to be capable of believing in it." ~Milan Kundera, Identity~

There was a time in my life when I could only look back upon a relationship gone horribly wrong, and only see the negative, only feel that pain. I wanted to hold onto the memories of what went wrong, because I didn't want to miss what I had once had.

I didn't want to remember what it felt like to feel I was loved for me, just me, accepted as who I was, and loved for who I was becoming. I didn't want to remember what it felt like to love someone else in the same way. I didn't want to remember what it felt like to need him, didn't want to remember how the feel of his arms surrounding me, could soothe me.

It seemed easier to deal with the pain of what went wrong, it was easier to let him go, let the love go. I also held onto the thought, that perhaps, I would learn something from revisiting all of the negatives, hoping I wouldn't make the same mistakes again. So, only the shattered thoughts, only the tears spilled, only the fears voiced and not taken away, only my broken heart was allowed to be remembered.

But time passes. I can remember the love, remember the moments, be mindful of them, learn from them. I need those memories as well. The memories no longer reopen the wound, there is just an ache for two souls who found, loved, lost, and hopefully.........learned.

There are beautiful memories, faded with time, but the memories are there; memories of being filled with a warm loving glow, of smiles of delight, of learning of and from each other, of explorations, of desires fulfilled, of knowing of what it felt like to......just........love........and revel in that love.

Flashes of memory......

The memory of a bouquet of summer flowers. Memories of being held so tightly I felt infused with his love. Memories of long quiet talks, sharing our thoughts on everything and nothing. Memories of beautiful silences. Memories of walking together, along forest paths, over city sidewalks and bridges. Memories of our eyes meeting, of feeling embraced by the love I saw there. Memories of play, laughter and smiles. Memories of splashing barefoot in a cold clear brook, of kisses that seemed to last as long as the sun dappled shadows formed by the trees, of warm sand sifting through my fingers, and filling his palm. Memories of the beauty of an enormous spring moon filling the windows of a North and East facing corner room, of his arms wrapped around me, of his chin resting on the top of my head, of his lips moving to caress the sides of my neck, as we gazed out in awe and wonder. Memories of the fulfillment of being loved and desired, over and over again. Memories of music and soft voices, champagne, raspberries, poetry, and fingertip caresses, the taste of chocolate melting in the most luscious of places and licking it off. Memories of waking up and reaching for each other, reveling in the moments.

Memories of rain sliding down car windows, desperate embraces of love and yearning.......saying goodbye.

Finally, finally, letting so much go, embracing the feelings these memories of love bring. Allowing the memories to remind me it is possible to love, to just love. Memories of loving and letting go, because sometimes, we love best by letting go. Memories that bring sadness, but also the knowledge that a broken heart can heal. Letting it all go, no more revisiting the past, moving on. Saying the final goodbye.

Time, time to allow myself to remember.

Hearts do heal, and love again.