Can we talk?

What Love Is

    I went to the cemetery today with my father. "Up on the mountain" he calls it. He's 80. I had gone with him to the doctor and didn't know he planned this. It's only a few minutes out of town and has a spectacular view of the city. He didn't take any flowers, but he had a big empty box. He had visited the site since Christmas, but had added things only once. He knew it was time to take the holiday things off her grave.

    So in the 25 degree weather under cloudy skies, he cleared away pots of poinsettias and dying holly branches with lots of berries. He stowed the little 6" gold Christmas tree with the nutcracker ornament like the bigger ones she had liked.  He left one non-seasonal spray. We walked slowly out; it was too cold for him to visit long. We looked at other graves he has come to know. I picked up some fallen easels of flowers and set them upright. He had a few tears, but we didn't speak.

    It's been over a year and a half since she passed away, and he still takes care of her.

    I think most of us have an illusion of what love is. Especially when we are young. We have these fantasies of romance, of fire and passion, of happiness and bliss. True, chemistry draws people together, but it doesn't keep them together, and it isn't love.That's why so many marriages or other relationships fall apart so soon. They realize they don't have the fantasies anymore or maybe never did. We buy into the cheap novels with their steamy covers, or the movies, or the songs.

    I once heard a pastor say on TV that you don't know what love is until you've been together 20 years, and you've walked the floor with sick babies, worried about the kids graduating from the fifth grade or getting home from the prom, fretted over bills or unemployment, and fought about your in-laws. It's the ups and downs, the hard times that make love. At the wedding, you're happy and you make the commitment. Only if you're lucky does love grow out of the commitment.

    I'd go further to say that it's the sorrows, the heartaches, and the rough times that forge love out of commitment, like the blacksmith forging something out of molten iron over the hot fire. We think we see signs of love when we see the parents of teenage children still walking hand in hand and smiling, relaxed in each other's company; but we have no idea what problems have strengthened them and brought them to this point.

    But sometimes, those appearances can be deceiving. I once thought that middle-aged couples acting all goo-goo, gaga- you know very attentive of one another and flirtatious, were wonderful and had kept their love alive, only to find out it was second marriage or they were just dating. New love, or attraction that might become love, has telltale signs that we all recognize. A solid, more stable love doesn't have to be demonstrative. Yet there are signs for the rest of the alert world.

    I've seen a couple stand by the bed of a 14 year old boy, watching him die of cancer, wondering if they had the strength to let him go, then lean together for support. They had and still have one of the most ideal marriages I have ever known. I've seen a 70 year old man refuse to do something on a Friday, except for emergencies, because Friday night has been devoted to his wife since he was 19 years old. You never saw them touch or kiss or do anything in public.

    I stood in the parking lot at the doctor's office one day, watching a man get the wheel chair out of the back of the car, assemble it, go to the passenger side and help his wife out of the car. As he wheeled it to the door, I ran to open it, but someone had it from the inside. They were in their late 50's or 60's. I knew myself what a struggle handling a wheel chair can be, especially over thresholds. No doubt they had been through a lot by that time with her health alone. He was gentle and caring; she was pleasant and appreciative.   

    I've seen several couples facing surgery for one of them and both feeling afraid. Each couple held hands and didn't talk a whole lot. What hurt one of them hurt the other. Any stranger could see that. Or when one person had an emergency, the relief could be seen on that person's face, when a spouse showed up. More trust and hope could be found in that loved one than in a doctor or nurse or a whole medical team.

  One day I walked into my mother's hospital room. Mom and Dad were sitting side by side, Mom's head on his shoulder. They were holding hands and looking sad. I panicked right away and said, "What's wrong?" They told me they had just been advised her kidneys were failing. Both of them started to cry softly when they told me. They both felt the pain.

    Later when my mother was in a nursing home after surgery for a broken hip at age 74, my dad visited her every evening. He stayed with her until bedtime. He would help her out of the wheel chair and into the bed. She would put both her arms around his neck while he got her to her feet. Then they would stand there embracing, not wanting to leave each other. He'd get her onto the bed and covered up and make sure she was comfy. They said a tearful good-bye. Seven days a week for months while he maintained a 32 hour a week job, took care of the house, did his own laundry, and cooked his own food.

    Once she was home, they took care of each other. I would tease them telling them they were two old cripples looking after one another.  And they did a good job of it. They each did the best they could at every little task, no matter how undesirable a task. For instance they had foot problems. She'd tend to his feet; he'd tend to hers.He did all the laundry. He put the ironing board upstairs for her to iron his shirts. He ran the vacuum, did the shopping, mopped the floors, and scrubbed the toilets. She did the cooking ( she was great at it until the end). They both did dishes, depending on who felt the worst that day.

    That's what we all want when we think about love. Someone who cares. Someone who will lift us up and hold us figuratively, and literally if necessary. Someone to grow old with. Someone to share our fears and our worries and our suffering. Someone who needs us as much as we need him/her. We want someone who hurts when we hurt. Someone whose pain, and struggles, and suffering we can share. The reality is that love isn't really about feeling good after all. That's the illusion. Love is about sacrifice and bearing pain.