Strangers

Is there a moment when it happens?

Or is it that a million moments accumulate into an eventual realisation?

Relationships change, they evolve, they shift. Circumstances fashion them, events alter them, decisions divert them. Love has countless patterns and textures that can shine or fade. It is never constant. It has a restless dynamic that, even when seemingly at peace, stirs in the darkness.

Once in a lifetime we are perfectly loved. Love is given to us with a purity of soul that almost blinds us. Absolute adoration. Glorious submission. It is a love that would give up everything. It is rare, unique, special.

But even such wondrous love cannot flourish without hope. I gave her everything I could, but I took away hope. I carry that burden among many other burdens. All of my own foolish construction.

She has survived. She is braver, stronger, more resilient, more at ease. For her, and perhaps for myself, I am no longer what I was. I never will be again.

For the man I am, with all my vanity, my ego, my pretensions and my self-deception, I would rather have no love at all than find myself in the slowly lengthening shadows of what once raged and burned so brightly.

We must be to each other what we never wanted to be..

Strangers.

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Originally posted, with small variations, in both my Love Affair Diary and Shadows & Dancers blogs.  I have a very personal and special reason for re-posting it today, and do so with a heart that could hardly be heavier.

Painting: Journey’s End by Anne Magill