Day 17 and 6 hours – 32 minutes

This is a love speculation – of what happens when there is still love

but the END has come and gone.

Grief has stages, but none of them timed to the hour.

Heartbreak has a recovery period,

the minutes drag on.

Days 1 -4 Cry and wonder ‘What’s wrong with me?’

Days 5-7 Remember that I am amazing and there is something terribly wrong with you.

Day 8 and 13 hours – 12 minutes Realize I’m acting from a defense and decide I’m better off without you.

Day 8 and 13 hours -15 minutes Wonder if I can simultaneously be ‘not enough’ for you while completely enough for me.

Day 8 and 13 hours – 37 minutes Wonder if that ‘enough/not enough’ can exist while still being heartbroken and full of love

Days 9-11 Hope I don’t see you

Day 12 Cry again

Day 13 Display mostly anger toward you

Day 14 Live in the loving memories

Day 15 Hope I don’t hear your sweet voice, see your soft eyes or loving smile anytime soon

Day 16 Remember my many other loves, my incredible capacity for love, a never empty potential to love…

Day 17 Wake up, feel vulnerable, feel content, feel challenged, continue, feel, feel sadness, feel wonder, act, react, continue

Day 17 and 6 hours, 32 minutes – the cycle has passed.

 

If only it were this easy, if only time were this linear, if only I could stay in bed until I finished loving you.

I don’t feel any less strong than last week, or the last time I felt you really love me.

I don’t when I’ll be able to next pass by you without feeling longing while forcing a friendly smile.

There is no magical time this will be over. I miss you. I miss you right now. I miss you already.

I love you. I love you right now.

 

I’m waiting for Day 17 and 6 hours, 32 minutes.

 

 

This speculation comes from real life and an honest and grandiose look at love. Inspired by the work I’m doing with the Dance Ensemble students at Hamline University in St.Paul, our new work love, Obviously is speculation, recreation and imitation of the  blissful and tragic ends of love.

In the spirit of myself, my students, social media and modern culture :

#notchildish #warrioroflove #howmanymoretimeswillIbeheartbroken #reallife #loveanthropology #neveremptyheart

 

Serenity in the Shadows

I grew up in a home blessed by the serenity prayer,

governed by a disciplinarian.

This prayer blessing served as a reminder of the darkness,

and it’s redemption program.

His darkness and her torture.

There is a devil somewhere, was it him or that liquid in his blood?

The two of them so very different creatures,

she said it was his fault and I always believed her,

and still do.

Although I loved him more than I will probably ever admit to loving her.

I was the love of his life, his angel child, saved from the chaos of a third world country –

delivered to the civilization of his small town.

Yes, the town, it was his, as he was the beloved senator.

He was…like the sociopath in a psychological thriller,

and she is his daughter.

He visited me in a dream,

his words broke my 28-year-old heart, I woke up sobbing.

Broke my heart like never before, not even through the unspeakable circumstances –

we won’t mention, you can imagine.

The serenity prayer, like Vegas lights flashed it’s face.

Their anthem, their reminder.

I inherited your darkness Grandpa

and your hysterics Mother, although neither of you live in my blood.

 

‘God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,

courage to change the things I can,

wisdom to know the difference.’