I Have Seen Amazing Love

[MartyT]

Dear Ones, The following comes to us from Pat Schwiebert, as published in the February 2013 issue of Grief Watch Newsletter. It struck me as too beautiful not to share with all of you here:

I have seen amazing love.

By Pat Schwiebert, R.N.

pat@tearsoup.com

I’ve seen a woman glow from the radiance of being with child--pregnant in anticipation of the relationship that will forever change her because of the love that connects the two of them. I’ve seen that love endure even when death takes that child from her arms and places the child safely to remain in her heart forever.

I’ve known the desire to trade places with someone whom I loved so she could watch her children live and grow, yet live with the humility of my not being able to do so.

I’ve witnessed a man come out of a coma just long enough to say “I love you. I love you! I miss you. I miss you!” to the lover whom no one else regarded as worthy.

I‘ve smelled the fragrance of love as she cooked his favorite meal knowing he would only be able to eat a bite before falling off to sleep.

I’ve watched as tough love said “no,” to her child, risking an unwanted outcome, then having to remind herself over and over that she said no out of love, only to see the child die anyway.

I’ve watched love endure a long drawn out ending of a life well lived.

I understand the emptiness you feel when it’s over and there are no more chances that things will get better.

I’ve recognized the patience of love in a family caring for someone with Alzheimer’s.

I’ve seen love bring him to his knees when he knew he couldn’t protect her from herself.

I’ve observed love dance down the hallway in the delight of one more day with the love of her life.

I’ve seen love take what little it can get and say thank you.

I’ve seen love dig a grave for the family dog in the back yard where he played so often with the kids, then go back into the house for a last meal with that same dog, cradle the dog while the vet slipped forever juice into his veins, then weep with the children before laying the beloved companion to rest in his play yard.

I’ve been disappointed that love didn’t have the power to keep us from grieving but have learned to be grateful for how love will see us through whatever comes our way if we allow it.

I know love makes it all worthwhile.

[mfh]

Oh, Marty, my tears blind me. This is beyond lovely....and yes, love does make it all worthwhile. Love made worthwhile all my gut wrenching pain; the endless nights of sitting up with Bill as I attempted to soothe the anxiety and agony of Alzheimer's disease; the exhaustion of his long slow journey from a meaningful and well lived life to his peaceful death in my arms.

Love says I would do it all over again and yes, I would trade places with him just as he would for me. It is what we do and are for those we love so dearly...those with whom we share a soul.

Thank you for sharing this.

Mary

[enna]

LOVE is what we are by whatever name we are called – nurse, caregiver, social worker, teacher, mother, father, daughter, brother, therapists, counselors…

Thank you, Marty, for this beautiful piece. How fitting that you would find this and chose to share it with all of us who have in one way or another been in one or more of these positions.

So many of us are right on the verge of dropping tears as we journey through a difficult or challenging situation in our lives.

There have been times since my Jim’s death that I wanted to crawl into a hole and never come out, but that is not what we are made of – we are made to accept life’s challenges and move through our grief knowing that Love will carry us when we are too weak to carry ourselves.

So many of us have traveled the paths that Pat expressed so beautifully.

Our own sorrows and pain have turned us into who we are today as we struggle to find meaning in life. And this I too believe that it is love that will carry us through our grieving and learning to accept what is.

Now I am gushing tears for more than the second time today. But I am told that it is good for to cry. Anne

[feralfae]

Oh, Marty, thank you so much! I just came from seeing my grief therapist, who is a wonderful person, and trying to communicate to here the sense of halfness I am still feeling one year later.

Your shared piece by Pat reminded me of the three years of loving through everything, of holding on when all we could do was lie next to each other and hold hands, of the days when even the feeding tube was no longer helpful, and when the last days came—which I am walking again now—and how we held on to our love, even to the last breath.

The sadness does not really matter. The grief does not really matter. The emptiness does not really matter. All that really matters is that love grew and thrived in us, and that love was strong enough to carry us over very rough times, and endure, and keep us going, and fill us with thanksgiving on those days when there was no hope left, but only acceptance, and our faith in knowing we would meet again.

Yes, Anne, you are right, that the name does not matter. All of the names are symbols of love. And, yes, as I sit here typing this, very damp , and moving again through these last days and hours of last year, I do know that the most important gift—the most gracious of gifts—has been to feel Doug's love, to know my own love endures, and to feel that with that assurance, I can go on, and get through anything.

I am going to get out some albums, pull out a few special things, and let myself celebrate our love and the wonderful gift of each other and the grace we had for those last years, when we lived each day in our love, no matter what.

Thank you Marty.

Blessings, Much Love and

*<twinkles>*

feralfae

[redsox125]

I sleep well at night and I'm happy. I have shared an amazing love and just because my young wife stepped off planet earth last month the love stayed behind.