It Hurts Like a Mother

We've all felt the sting of love that ends. Felt the pain that is associated with the sometimes disillusionment delivered by Love's delicate hands. Felt the pain of love lost abruptly and love lost without warning. We get disappointed, deceived and deflated from the realization that what we thought was ... really wasn't. The realization that what we once had ... is now gone.

I'm not talking about the love that springs from a crush. I'm not talking about surface love. I'm not talking about infatuation and neither the love for Love's sake kind of love. I'm talking about the steady, know it deep in your bones kind of love. Mature love. Grown up love. Real love. The kind that settles in and quietly takes root, intertwining thought and feeling on a deep and abiding level. Intertwining friend and lover into one person, one being and one soul. Love that wraps around us in entirety but doesn't choke or limit. Love that envelopes with steadiness and comfort. Love that is rooted in friendship, fed with mutual respect and grows into the most incredible experience imaginable.

Love that, when it ends, hurts like a mother..

One day we wake up. Everything seems as it should be. All is right with the world and with us. Everything proceeds as planned and suddenly ... POOF.... something happens and it's gone and we don't know what happened. Nor do we know how to begin to understand because there's no one to ask, no one to provide us with an answer. The proverbial rug gets yanked out from underneath our firmly rooted feet. We feel blind sided. We feel foolish. We feel used. We feel cheated. And we are. And we have been.

Foolish, blind-sided, used or cheated whatever the feeling that doesn't mean we have to be defeated. There is a line from the novel, Jazz by Toni Morrison. It's one that I've always loved and thought of as representative of how I feel about falling in love. The line is: "'Don't ever think I fell for you, or fell over you. I didn't fall in love, I rose in it.'

Falling in love doesn't have to mean literally falling. It doesn't have to mean we lost our footing, lost our balance or lost our control. I like to think that I rose in love. Rose up and rose in it. Grew up and grew in it. And to whatever end, however the end, I can rise and stand firmly rooted and knowing that it hurts like a mother but I didn't fall.

Nor will I

Indeed.

Lost in Mitigation

A Baptism announcement ran in our Sunday newspaper last week, the child was the daughter of the student teacher my daughter supervised in her classroom this past Spring. This student teacher had gone back to school for a second degree and he and my daughter had a very good classroom experience, they are close in age, worked very well together and had a lot in common. Our families are acquainted.




The announcement was like any other found in social sections of newspapers all over the country. A sweet photo of an angelic looking baby and the names of parents, godparents, siblings and grandparents were listed. A family party was mentioned as well. What struck me when reading about the party was that I knew that it was probably the last time they were able to be together as a family.



Last week this sweet baby's grandfather, her mother's father, was sentenced to serve 28 years in a federal penitentiary for having been convicted as part of a corruption scandal that made the national news. It's a fairy high profile crime. The sentencing was featured on CNN and HLN TV. Books will be written about the crime and I'm sure some misguided fool will try and make a buck and turn out a poorly made TV movie "based on actual events".



I know the price the family of this man has paid for his crime. He was guilty as charged, period. His actions betrayed the public he was elected to serve and his crime inflicted unmeasurable suffering on the weakest and least represented faction of our communities. Kids. He deserved his sentence...every single day of it. His family does not.



This man's home, income and pension are gone. The boat, the vacation condo and whatever savings is gone as well. His wife of over 35 years has moved in with her daughter and has picked up a part time job at a strip mall photo studio in a neighboring town. The children, all grown, are now left to piece together a life in the wake of the scandal. Their name is mud here. They are treated with derision by association. They've done nothing wrong and never were connected to the case in any way....but they will also have to serve out the 28 years, each one of them.



The man's wife was at one time an enviable figure. Pretty, socially connected and gifted with a lovely personality. She raised great kids, all successful professionals in their own rite, happily traveling life's journey with their own spouses and children. By all accounts she had everything a person would want. Life was good. At a time when a woman can sit back and enjoy the fruits of her hard work, enjoy the family she worked hard to build just about everything came crashing down.



My heart goes out to her. I can't and won't join the chorus of those passing judgement. I've seen her around town and her transformation is incredible. TV footage of her reveals a face that cannot hide the suffering she bears as people shouted terrible words as she walked past a crowd entering the courthouse. I bristle when I hear a person mock her change in fortune. Her husband may have done something terrible but having married him does not make her terrible.



I wonder if those that judge her could ever understand the pain of betrayal she must feel at the hands of her husband? Regardless of the public face of the crime....her relationship with him is personal. This is a personal story, her story and her life with her husband has ended. He betrayed her terribly, his actions, sprung from selfish greed, have hurt her and destroyed everything they had built together. The handsome young man she fell in love with and married is gone. The man she paced floors with, worried with and struggled to raise a family with is gone. The man who occupied the other side of her bed, the man who knew her in the most beautifully intimate way a man can know a woman is gone. It's all gone.



How do you move on from here? From a life spent with a man you've loved, cared for, struggled with, committed to? How do you say goodbye to a life lived together, a life you thought would continue until there were no more days left? How do you get past the realization that the man you trusted threw it all away with a nod and a handshake, and made a deal that ended the very life you worked so hard to create?



It's possible to serve a life sentence without ever stepping a foot inside of a jail. I hope for her sake someone releases her for time served. I can't think of anyone more deserving.

Indeed.