Jackassalope

My Departure from Sarcasm

Love is a funny thing. There are a lot of people that feel love, but when you ask them to describe it, the words are hard to find. That’s because you don’t speak of love, you feel it. Words were never meant to trump feelings. Even poets can’t truly describe the exact essence of love. They try. They come close. And they fall short. Like most emotions, love is relative. What it means to me, it may not mean to you. A counter example (or perhaps the perfect example) of a feeling’s relativity is a person’s pain threshold. My brother cut half of his arm off with a chainsaw and walked down a mountain to call the ambulance. Did it hurt? I’m sure it did. But it didn’t hurt him as much as the next guy. Unfortunately for my brother, his love threshold is as high as his pain threshold. Three years into his relationship might have killed me, but he has hope or, at the very least, is blind to the pain.

But what does this say of love? Yes, it’s caring, forgiveness, and generosity; words, words, and more words. Love isn’t words. It is feelings and ideas. It is todays and tomorrows. It is bringing life into the world, and even more so, holding someone’s hand as they leave it. For some, it’s forever. For others, it’s fleeting. As much as I would like to think I know, it’s what I don’t know about love that makes it real. Love isn’t free. It isn’t easy, and it isn’t for everyone; although, everyone deserves it. Why? I don't know.

For me, love is my wife. Every ounce of her being is focused on making the world better, my life better, our life better. I was asked a long time ago about how I knew that I loved her. Again, only words were used to describe an indescribable feeling. My response? I know the sun rises every morning. I know I need every breath I take, and I know I love Malinda. When she goes to work in the morning, I know she will come home in the evening. When I see an older couple on TV, I know that is where we will be one day. I don’t know why, but I know. So to me, love is knowing that the answers are not meant to be known. They’re felt, poorly explained, but always there. But why? I don't know.