Faced with the heartbreaking decision to let go of a relationship with care, respect, and love, she has been left to wonder, where does the love go when the object of the love is gone, and there’s no anger to please the nagging ache?
So too I find myself asking “where does the love go?” Does it hollow us out on the inside, ripping our hearts to pieces in the absence of a home? Does it wither slowly like a branch broken from a newly planted red rose bush? Does it flounder, lifeless, like a goldfish who jumped the bounds of his bowl only to lie flopping, gasping hopelessly for air?
Where does the love go?
I miss my daughter every moment of every day, and on days like Mother’s Day I miss her every second. If I close my eyes, I can almost feel her tiny fingers running across my face; I can almost hear her grunting protests; I can almost smell her freshly washed skin. Almost.
And so I know that love doesn’t go, love stays, always. Yet we get to choose what we do with that love. Do we tuck it away, siphon it off from the light of our lives, save it for a day that will never come, or do we pull it out and share it with the world?
I would give anything in my possession to hold my daughter today, anything. Even so, I will likely never hold her again. Yet what I can do today is to use these hands to plant flowers; I can use my hands to sow new life into the earth. And tomorrow, and the day after, I can use them to love again. I can use all of this love to love again.
I hope that if you too find yourself wondering today “where does the love go?” you can turn your head to see all of the places it has gone. Keep loving and “you’ll reach your destiny, meant to find you all these years.”
– Cry, Cry, Cry