Where is the LOVE?

So, I dont know if you noticed, but after re-reading yesterdays post, I think I came off pretty pissed off sounding. This is probably due by and large to the fact that I indeed WAS pretty damn upset about the whole incident. Ok, not probably, it was entirely due to the fact that visions of corporal punishment, danced through my head. But, today, I am happy to report that I am over it. Ok, well, for the most part.

Its just one of those things you come to realize as you get older that you simply cannot stay mad about things that have already happened. Ok, let me take that back- you CAN stay mad about things that have already happened. But, it will make you a bitter, miserable person, and frankly, there are already enough of those in the world today, in my humble opinion.

However, if you grow wise as you grow old, you will come to realize that staying mad at someone for something that has already happened, doesnt do you any good. If anything, remaining mad at a person or situation, long after the fact does nothing but allow that person or circumstance to maintain control over you, long after the transgression is done, and most likely forgotten by the perpetrator.

With that thought in mind, it was still a struggle for me to let go this whole incident. As I sleepwalked through my day, I couldnt help but wonder about how in the hell we got to this place. How did things go from so much love and happiness, to so much sadness and hurt? Where did the love go? And, was it ever really even real in the first place? This is what I mulled over the remainder of the day... Where is the love?

Now, I know most of you are hating me right about now, because that crap-ass song by the Black Eyed Peas of the same title has probably begun to leak into your brains, but all I can say is sorry. After all, "its Christmas time, and were all in misery. Dont be so dramatic!" (give yourself 10 points if you recognized that line!) .

Take a moment to shake it off, and bear with me, I think itll be worth it.

So, I spent most of today torturing myself by reliving the spectacular implosion of my relationship with Mark, desperately in search of some kind of answer. I know, I know! Shame on me. I spent the day breaking one of my cardinal rules of "why ask why?!", but in light of the latest incident, I couldnt help myself. Indulging misery, I couldnt stop asking myself what the hell happened? How was it that at 9:37pm on Sunday, November 14, 2004 we were in Wonderland, but as the minute hand of the clock struck 9:38pm, the looking glass shattered into a million tiny pieces?

How could mere words cause a total disruption in the space time continuum? Especially when his favorite thing to talk about was how he couldnt wait to have kids. He wanted 7, and often tried to convince me this was the perfect number, as he asked what names I liked best.

This was the way our world looked at 9:37pm on November 14, 2004: bright, happy, in love, children....a FUTURE.

I still remember the look he gave me that night, the same look he always gave me, a sparkle of love and wonder glowed in his eyes as he kissed me...

It colored my whole world.

Then I told him the news...

And at 9:38pm November 14, 2004, the sun went black and I stood amid shattered jagged pieces of what once was, listening in utter disbelief as he pleaded with me to have an abortion.

To this day, I still cannot get my mind around this.

To be honest, I think the thing I have wrestled with the most was the fear that perhaps the love I thought we shared never really existed in the first place. Part of me even to this day argues vehemently that YES! It was real... But then part of me is terrified to think that perhaps it never was. "If you love me, you wont do this", he said. If I chose not to do what he said, I was ruining his life, and proved I didnt love him.

I hate that he did that to me. For a long time I carried a heavy burden of guilt on my shoulders, that I never should have taken up in the first place.

It colored my whole world.

I dont remember much from this time really, because self preservation colored all of the memories black. The happiest day of our lives, the birth of our son, merely colored grey... Only a little joy could be felt as I looked into the face of my newborn child, because when I looked down at this tiny person who I loved so very much, I saw the face of the one who hurt me so badly.

It colored my whole world.

Letting go of the sadness and the guilt, took a long, long time. But as Daisy once said, life just keeps going on. Each day you do your best to get through the day, and then you cry at night when you get home. You live in a haze for a while, but each day you cry a little less. Then one day, you suddenly realize you havent cried in a while. At first, the realization will make you want to cry, but the tears wont do more than well up in your eyes. Thats when you know you are almost there. "Everything is ok eventually", she always says.

And of course, she is right. There is beauty in the pain of letting go, it just takes a while for us to see it.

Its funny how you can struggle through something you think might possibly kill you, come out the other side a stronger, happier person, but be plunged back into that same dark, broken place by just one incident. I long ago gave up trying to figure out the "why", but this incident put me back there for a while. Why? And where did the love go?

As the day wound down, so did my mind thankfully, and by 7pm, it no longer filled my consciousness. Luca came home, and we played and laughed, and had a grand ol' time. Then it was time for bed. Usually Luca is pretty good about going to bed with no trouble, but tonight was not one of those nights. So I rocked him to sleep, and just enjoyed the quiet and the warm snuggly little body that clung to me. I sang to him a bit, and he hummed along as he drifted off to sleep.

Looking down at my tiny miracle in the pale glow of the night light, I noticed something for the first time. While Luca looks just like his father, and by most accounts will always be labelled his father's son, I noticed a bit of me in him too, and it was a profound moment. The last 3 years of my life were all colored for better or worse by Luca's father, but as I looked down at my sleeping child, I realized that Luca is colored by ME.

And its not merely the blonde hair, blue eyes, and fair complexion, but other subtle nuances of his character as well... Holding my sleeping child, I could see for the first time that he is a beautiful blend of his father and myself...

The love truly did exist between us... I held it in my arms.

And it has colored my whole world.