“Do you want to know why you are beautiful?” he asked.
She stared at his face as if she didn’t hear and thought about all the times she’d called him handsome, how it had been her secret nickname for him. She thought about her daughter and how much she’d grown in the last few years, how she’d watched her body transform, how it made her cry in sadness and joy. It was a body being prepared for the creation of life, a body being prepared to give itself away and as she stared at him all she could think about was how she wanted to teach her daughter that her beauty was the abundance growing inside of her, all she had to give, not what the world would tell her she should be or give away.
“I know why I’m beautiful, Handsome. What I don’t know is whether the beauty I wish to give to you or rather whether what I have given has been acceptable…” she stopped and put her head down as her eyes watered.
Wiping her tears away she looked up to stare into his eyes “…I am not for everyone…” she said before again pausing.
“… It is pride that speaks because the truth is that I don’t feel as if I’m for anyone. Except you. It is logic that has been silent because it knows that statement makes no sense. It is now my heart that speaks because it is free. Maybe my love lives here, in the world of the spirit and maybe life has dictated that this is where it shall stay. And maybe not…” she said looking down in tears again.
“… This is hard…” she said looking up as he stared at her.
“…I try not to make wishes for myself and I fight to joyfully execute upon a will that feels sometimes not to be mine but still I wished for you and ever so briefly pretended the wish was granted until reality intervened to wake me up.
I don’t know what I’m saying anymore or why I’m saying it. Maybe I fear leaving questions or pain behind. That isn’t my wish,” she said.
His eyes had watered as he listened and he wanted to hug her, to make love to her in answer so that she never question herself again but the words he couldn’t say as he reached out for her hand.
“You don’t need to say anything,” she started.
“Just know that I love you, that I always loved you, that I’m sorry for hurtful
words and anger, that in the end I wish you nothing but peace and joy. I am joyful because I’ve found a way to love you through all of this, whatever this is and if it never becomes more than this, it is simply my hope that the love I have given is acceptable.
Even if you don’t have words in answer my prayers will ask that it be so and that you receive blessings and abundance in your remaining years to return all that has been taken or stolen, that it be multiplied such that those who told you it would never be yours will fall to their knees to ask for forgiveness and that they be enlightened to all that has also been promised to them.
If I be wrong, misguided, naive or blinded in what I feel then I am content to accept it as so with the knowledge that love is not always understood, that it can’t in its rawness always be welcomed and that it can’t be qualified through judgement of what it should or shouldn’t be nor where it should or shouldn’t aim.
Be happy, Handsome. Remain hopeful in dreams you once upon a time had or dreams that with age, time, life, death and wisdom have been created anew. There is still much work but fear not the heaviness of your fight, the wrath, darkness or deceit. You may never understand how you have lifted me, just know it is so and that I am thankful for you eternally.
My heart may falter but never will it depart from you.”