Where there is love....

Pain. People say death is the one most important thing we have in common, but it’s not. Pain is. Pure, heartbreaking sadness. The kind that makes you gasp for air. The shocking, unexpected pain that literally takes your breath away. Reason seems unfathomable and all that seems to be is how much it hurts. How will life ever be the same? Truth is it will not. Nothing will ever be the same and a chasm is created that you will probably never breach. How do you move on from something that has so drastically shifted the kaleidoscope of your life and made you question your reality? What kind of world is it when you would rather someone is dead, because that pain is easier to bear than that which they have inflicted on you through their existence? The situation is made the more unbearable because you still possess love for the person who has hurt you, for they too have been damaged and broken. They too have lost something that they can never retrieve. We are both irrevocably linked in the midst of the pain and we always will be.

It’s such a small town. A tight-knit community of family, friends and believers. Religion was our backbone for all that surrounded us. It defined us and it shaped us. It introduced me to some of the most amazing people that I had ever met. People who inspired me and became a surrogate much needed family, as I was so far from my own. It was here that I also met a couple who graciously offered me their friendship and taught me so much. I confided in them, I trusted them and I loved them both. She was the epitome of the clichéd “breath of fresh air.” She made that statement her own because it did not define her, she defined it. A beautiful spirit in every sense of the word and I sought to emulate her. If I could have even a single strand of the joy she possessed, I knew I would be happy. 

He was an encyclopedia. The more you were around him, the more you discovered and the more you learned. He was a dependable presence in the midst of hardship. When you needed an ear, a clear voice and an immersion of love you went to him. He embodied the qualities that are seemingly lacking in people of today and he was someone who was always going to be constant in my life.  

Being told (from someone who was not that prominent a figure in my life) that the couple who represented the love that I desired to one day have, where in turmoil of the greatest magnitude, shattered my world. Their relationship seemed an illusion to shield his sickness from the world. Soliciting young boys for sex. Why? How? Hearing it was the most heartbreakingly surreal experience. It was so unbelievable in its reality. It did not sink in. It has not sunk in, and it probably never will. But it will always be an ever present shadow of the true and utter weakness of man. Here was a man who was raised in the church, who represented the church and who was a supportive presence at my baptism; committing such a heinous act. I will never be able to shed enough tears, the pain will never be less astounding and the shock will never cease to stop me in my tracks. Hearing it will always be like it is for the first time. A continuous replay of heartbreak.

What scares me the most though is not what he did. It is that I still love him. I still care. My first thought when I heard was, “Is he ok?” because irrespective of what he did, that predator was not the person that I knew. He was a broken man, and the one I knew helped heal the broken. He helped heal me. Does my love for him still, display my humanity or my failure? It begs the question, what would it take, what would he have to do, for me to stop loving him. This dilemma has made me question my morals, and also given me an understanding of the emotions that are felt by close friends and family of those who are accused of crimes that disgust us; murder or rape. There is anger, there is desperation, there is sadness, an overwhelming sense of powerlessness….. and there is also love. Still. Even after everything, you still have love.

I have not talked to him. I do think about him and I do wonder how I missed it. Were there cries for help? Was I too caught up in my search for help that I never noticed he needed mine?

I think about her too. “For better or for worse. In sickness and in health.” These are the words she promised that symbolize forever. This is the biggest trial for her and I cannot even begin to imagine how she is feeling. My pain and heartache is magnified to extremes when I think about the battle she is facing. What has it done to her heart? What has it done to her faith and what remnants are left of what she used to feel? Can she stay for this? My heart is broken, but her soul has been darkened.

I pray to God (even though I question how he could let this happen) to be her light. Her guardian angel and the mirror through which she views the world.  And for her to know, that although there is nothing I or anyone can say to make it seem remotely bearable, I have love. For her and for him, and I have not forgotten the man I knew who was present in the special moments of my life.