Love’s MidSummer’s Feast

Permit.. me.. totell. youa. story. Almost half a life my life ago, my friend, my partner, my love(with apologies to Romeo) died. Our time had been more than some, much less than others.

Had always found it easy to at least like people, often love, this was my first case of not just loving someone, but being in love with person as well, warts and all. It changed me in ways that were totally unexpected, amd unprepared for.

Due to my study of metaphysics and Buddhism, was well acquainted with the fact, at least to me, that the body was not the person. So, seeing the body inanimate was not a difficult task or burden. Moving on, learning that one does not get over being in love, was.

Love is not like the flu, or a cold, that one simply gets over. It has permeated one’s cells, one’s mind, and the loss of my love, left me feeling like a neutron bomb site, everything was still standing, but totally dead inside.

Death though, does not still the life for those who survive, it just goes on. And slowly, step by step, inch by inch, one learns to move again. That is until one night, when the loss, the loneliness, the hunger, the wanting was so great, that pouring forth out of me, was a call.

A call to my love, to let me see them one more time. To be in their presence, to be in their light. The drive, the force, the will, was so strong, that their apparition appeared, as if dancing over head, floating above the bed, but out over the room.

Only it was not them exactly. The lower right leg, and the upper left arm, are not flesh like, though colored that way. They were like rectangular boxes attached to them. The rest was there, as well remembered and loved. The look on the face, was both loving and pained.

How much had it cost to see me again. How was it possible for me to do that to them. To make them endure so much, even if willing, left me only with remorse for that touch to my eyes and senses.

With understanding, let go, and the vision departed. Fading, from sight, but not mind. That happened about a week to ten days after death. From there on, it was a matter of putting one foot in front of the other, looking after my five year old son, being responsible, if not particularly responsive to others.

Life goes on, ever beautiful, if not particularly fair, in one person’s eye.

San Francisco native, lived mostly in the Bay Area, spent time being a hippie, a real estate broker, residence hotel manager, living in the country, life is goo

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