[Loss]t in Love

“I have my mother’s mouth and my father’s eyes; on my face they are still together.”

                                ~ Warsan Shire

Identity. For a while, I used my parents as a crutch to define mine. They were companions. Full-on life partners who leaned on each other’s love for support. Their union was my home and when they lost their way, so did I. The divorce began two years ago, but still, it is hard to accept that even beautiful things can come to an end.

I wish.

They could play their song and dance barefoot in the living room.

Lost in their love.

I wish.

They could drink red wine and laugh at old memories.

Lost in this moment.

I wish.

I could say they worked it out.

But they can’t.

They won’t.

And they didn’t.

We are all wounded bodies, seeking refuge in the warm embrace of other tortured souls. Until we learn that, we can never brace another’s storm without first confronting our own. This is my storm and I am far from past it. I have learned that. I wonder if I now love differently. I wonder if I will ever love the same. Sometimes, when those questions become too hard to handle, I try to remember that grass and children are always growing and I must follow suit. I must try my hardest to rise again into this skin, comfortable enough to brace these shaky grounds and changing times... because life stops for no one.

Language is meant to set stories free. This is one of mine. And if you too have struggled with this story, may you find comfort in these words.