They say (they who?) absence makes the heart grow fonder.
Maybe, but only when a reunion is inevitable. Otherwise, it just stirs anger and hurt. It’s the one thing in this world that I just don’t see myself ever coming to peace with. Oh, I know, everything and every life is temporary, our attachments cause us to suffer, there is a season for blah blah blah, and all that jazz. None of it makes it easier.
I just can’t make it easier on myself. Maybe I don’t want to because it’s not supposed to be easier. Maybe keeping grief is a good punishment for all the wrong we’ve done throughout our lives. Maybe it’s a fight against the worst part of the universe in the names of those we’ve loved.
It’s a gesture that says, “I will never give up on their existence, no matter how much time passes, no matter how many I lose to death, they will never not exist to me. And thank you for this pain you’ve lent me, but I think I will keep it, for it makes me stronger and it reminds me of what I have yet to lose.”
Grief is more powerful than happiness. It is stronger than acceptance. When you get tired of the despair eroding you, you will either use it or lose it.
Whoa, that was an unexpected tangent. Moving on:
There’s a reason we consider certain people/things special: because they aren’t the norm. They aren’t usual. They don’t happen or exist often enough for us to get used to them.
Albuquerque’s first tattoo convention was special. It sucked, it was mediocre, a mere wisp of a good time, but it was special because it was the first. It excited the city because it was about damn time.
Then, there was another six months later. Then another, and it wasn’t so special. In a city this size, having barely average tattoo conventions several times a year just strips out the special. Anticipation flatlines.
Now well-organized and out of its infancy, held annually, it is special. Any more than that would be shoving anti-special right down our throats.
There are, of course, certain situations and instances that no matter how much they exist never cease to be extraordinary. Like sex with your love. Like love with your love. Nightmares are always special, no matter how many nights in a row over the course of your life you have them. Star Wars also enjoys undying specialness.
Caviar at every meal, an anniversary every week, a cloudy sky every day, sleep for ten hours in a row (!), an “I love you” in every sentence, and a thousand other things would all grow too normal. There wouldn’t be even a hint of special left to savor.
Hold on to whatever is special to you for as long as possible. Then, appreciate the absence of it until it returns. Enjoy the anticipation. Look forward to that sweet moment when you can celebrate its return.
There is reason to enjoy not having what you want. If we can focus on that, the wait will be easy.