There’s a particular kind of grief that comes from the dissolution of deep-rooted bonds; a sorrow that cuts to the core of one’s very being, carving a home in its once warm, welcoming folds. It’s a loss that truly transcends mere sentimentality; it’s a violent rupture in the very fabric of our emotional landscape.
Naturally, as time marches on, and we become newer versions of ourselves, paths diverge and connections are simply lost. Sometimes, it’s a simple twist of fate. But others have felt like pieces of myself falling away, leaving in their wake voids that I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to truly fill.
I do, after all, love deeply. It’s a trait I am proud of, and I also understand that it can be dangerous. My emotions are wide open; they live on the surface and caress my skin like well-worn cashmere. They’re soft, gentle and comforting on the surface, but underneath lies a delicate fragility that is ever so easily ripped apart.
Should I be embarrassed that my love is a wild, untamed force? Perhaps. But I take pride that I give love freely, without reservation; it makes me feel alive after so, so long wishing I was dead. But it also makes me utterly vulnerable, and has left me broken and alone.
I am, thus, no stranger to navigating the endings of significant relationships: sisterhoods forged in the crucibles of renewed adolescence, romantic entanglements born of shared solitude, crushing betrayals that have shattered my sense of security and left me questioning the very nature of love (and myself). I’ve even navigated the ending of the greatest love that played the most significant role in forging the swashbuckling romantic human woman I am proud to be today – effortlessly and with graceful aplomb, I’m sure he’ll agree.
The reality of loving freely and deeply is simple: I have meant the world to some, and absolutely nothing to others. I have been a sister, chosen family; a confidante, a co-conspirator and a proud partner to, truly, the greatest person. I have been used by others; a mere vessel to vanquish loneliness – a temporary companion, nothing more.
Yet, love still exists.
Watching two members of the Light Division wed their soulmate recently was a beautiful spectacle that celebrated love, commitment, friendship, companionship, and the enduring power of human connection. Watching two people I love commit to a lifetime spent together, surrounded by my best friends, reminded me that love is real and it is wonderful in all of its splendour, and how lucky we are to be capable of something so profound.
Indeed, the bonds I’ve forged are testaments to the enduring power of love. Of camaraderie. Of me, even. Despite the disappointment that has accompanied some endings, I have still been able to find joy and a reappreciation of the love and bonds I share with others that have grown stronger as a result.
Yes, searing pain and life-altering disappointment has darkened my door. But I have still found solace in the realisation that love, in all its strange and wonderful forms, is a precious gift, no matter how fleeting, or no matter how little it meant to someone else.
Love is a force that can elevate and devastate and the loss of love is a profound experience. But it’s also not the end of the world. Life is a sea of emotions; joy, sorrow, passion, and everything in between. The patterns that emerge are often unpredictable – but isn’t this what makes life so special?
I am still swimming in the unsteady aftermath of these losses. My heart is still profoundly broken. But, I am, as ever, resilient and optimistic. It’s through these difficult times that we discover our strength, our capacity for growth and our remarkable ability to heal.
I am, as ever, hopeful that new connections will form; new loves will blossom, and I will eventually emerge from this ongoing period of transition with a renewed sense of self and purpose.
And that, friends, is all she wrote.