Love can move mountains. Love can reach out and touch the sun. In my life the genuine love that I have had for a woman has brought me home time and again while climbing mountains – close to the sun. Down from a multitude of summits, back into the arms of “the” source of all my desires. Love can guide you when you are lost on a mountain, show you the way through a world full of turmoil. The love for a woman can be your guide when you are out on a limb. Her image in your mind’s eye pushing you on when all you want to do is give up. Keeping you warm when the alpine wind relentlessly draws away all warmth within. Yet it cannot take away the warmth in your soul for which she provides.
That love for which I speak is real. It is out there. I found that love and cultivated it. Imperfect and completely unabashed as it began, it ended as a symbol to behold. I knew not what to do at times in my marriage, in fact I often failed, fell and made mistakes. That pure love flowing through my heart kept lifting me back up, setting me back on course, catching my fall. As the years passed I learned to hold onto that love in times of despair. To meditate on the image in my mind of the love we shared. The trials and tribulations of our lives were like the raging storms I faced on many climbs. Blinded, in a white out, and unsure of where to go. Unable to read the map, unsure of the outcome, but “that” love always drove me on. Like a guiding light, an internal compass, the source of my desire, I could always count on that ever expanding love I held for her to push me on. Through the rain, through the snow, through the doubt, and through the pain, that comforting love would calm me and allow me the clarity to make the moves necessary in order to push on. All of my hopes, all of my dreams, all of my everything, were unequivocally ensnared in my love for her. I am far from perfect; the love in my heart for her (and only her) remained my one source of perfection. A fortress around my heart. A bastion of love protecting me where ever my adventuring heart dared to go.
As time went by and life's clock ticked away, I only grew fonder of her. Closer to her, drawn into the simplicity and purity that was our love. She truly became the friend and lover for whom great poets wrote about. In her eyes my soul could find comfort. No matter the time, the place, or the situation, through her eyes my soul could always find a portal to my dreams. The mountains of my life have continually been ascended via routes that challenged me. The "easy way" has never been the direction of my desires. I choose the road less traveled. Like a Buddhist, I had learned to meditate on her image in order to draw from a source of pure love and kindness that would allow me the energy, the peace, and the clarity to put one foot in front of the other until finally I was at the top of whatever peak, whatever challenge I was facing. She became my source, my drive, and my desire. My passion and my desires were only amplified through her. My dreams flowed through my veins, as deep as the cells in my body, always connected like a strand of DNA - to my love for her. I could always close my eyes on a difficult move. Fingers straining, legs shaking, the distance between my feet and the ground ever expanding. Sapped of energy and moments from falling. Not wanting to let go. I could close my eyes and ask God for strength, courage, and another day beyond the moves before me. Knowing that this fall, or that fall, could be my last. I would turn to God many times in difficult situations, listening, beyond my erratic breath; I'd often times get my answer, my source, my drive - her image in my mind. Her smile and her warm touch. Her golden hair blowing in the wind. I tell you - that image, whether you believe it was put there by God in my time of need, or you choose to not believe - has brought me home safely on more occasions than I care to count. Run out, solo, in a storm, it mattered not. I learned to meditate and pray; to draw from the heart and soul. To push myself beyond what this world could give me. When out on the sharp end (climber's lingo for being on lead - climbing first); when pushing your limits again and again, you have to find a source of inspiration. That source for me was again, perfect love. I could always count on her - in more ways than she will ever know. I spent many years guiding others, all the while, she was my guide. She guided the dreams that remained in my heart, and those that were tangible. The dreams that were deep seated in me. She dared me to "go get them". Always there with one hand on my back. Her gentle touch, ever present and real, assuring me that she was there. I knew I was never alone as long as I cultivated that love. I could close my eyes at night and the sense of what we had, what we built, and what we dared to be, assured me that if God gave me one more day and I awoke in the morning, it would be next to her. That above all else in this life, was what made all the struggles worth it. Having her to share my life with. Her being there both consciously and subconsciously was always the fuel that I needed to light the fire within.
Then I awoke one morning and she was no longer there! I have since arisen in the middle of the night and just reached over, searching for the source of my dreams. My companion on this journey. The “guide of the guide”. All I have found is an empty space. Time has passed and yet I still look. Through the storm. Through the rain that fills my eyes – tear filled and blurry. Sleep eludes me. Rest is not an option. Somewhere deep within those dreams are memories of her. My soul wanders through the night searching relentlessly for her. I know that she is gone. No love for me exists in her heart, yet I cannot convince my heart to let my love go. I subconsciously suppress my dreams. Hold back my future and my God given ability to dream. I may not have been much in this life, thus far, but I have always held onto my dreams. Those dreams seem pointless without her by my side. I have never been a perfect man, or husband, or father, but I have maintained my focus on trying harder with every breath that passes through my lungs. That fleeting sense of reality that she would come back is all but gone. I still wake most nights, and my hand still reaches out, but she is not there.
I have begged and pleaded for God to take the pain. To set me free and take the love from my heart. I do not sleep; I rarely cry anymore. It is the same thing every night. I refuse to dream, for those dreams are inevitably of her. Like a ghost in the darkness my love for her haunts me. I want peace. I want to dream again. I want to dream in color. Something will not let the love go. I have begged God to strip it from my heart. I ask not to replace it with anger, hate, and fear, only to give me back a pure heart so that I may dream again. The source of my desires is gone. She is not coming back. I know now what it must feel like to be a widower, yet I am faced with the ghost that was her every time I see her. She is there -yet gone. I wander the house at night on those sleepless nights, praying for God to let me close my eyes and rest, yet I beg Him to not let me dream. Those dreams are too often filled with that love. That kindness we shared and the smile on her face. The simplicity in our lives, in our love, and in her touch - it all comes rushing back if I dream. So I ask "God don't let me dream". Usually I neither sleep nor dream. I guess sleeping and dreaming go hand in hand for me. So I repeat the cycle again and again. I wake all too often now, reaching over, knowing she won't be there. I still reach. I don't know how to NOT reach for my dreams. She is still there, somewhere deep within my heart.
To love so deeply is to have lived. To lose that love is to have died. To survive through it is to be lost, wandering. Always reaching over looking for that one that completed you. Waking in the night and wandering an empty house. The two little lives that the two of you created are not there. You cannot go peak into their door and listen for their tiny breath. The family pets are gone. In years past you could wake in the middle of the night and gently crawl from bed, making certain to not wake her. You could wander the house and look through framed glass at a life. Walls filled, frames filled, all with LIFE. Now when you get up in the middle of the night it is typically from a sleepless, restless night. You still extend your arm over - nothing. You stumble gracelessly from an awkward slumber. You get away from your bed, afraid of the dreams. Wandering the halls. Pacing nervously. Afraid to sleep. The halls you wander now are empty. No memories staring back through the glass, only an empty reflection of what was.
I cannot go on forever running from my dreams. I know she is gone, and I know she will no longer guide my dreams. I'd give up those dreams to have her back, but I know her love for me vanished. Like the ghost in the night that haunts me, the love we had is but a ghost. We struggled through life and always maintained that love. To lose a love like that would drive most men to the brink of destruction. Poets have written about such lost love and the death of the remaining soul. I will not let that happen. I will hang on, like the climbs of my life. That love for her - the only true love I have ever known - remains in me. For some reason God will not let me go. Will not let me release that love. I am not sure why. I dare not ask why anymore. My routine is here. I carry on in this life, carrying around a love that I know is dead. Begging to have it stripped from me. Pleading for sleep and the ability to dream again. To find new dreams and explore what is out there. I know not what “not letting go” means, but it is what I feel. I hide it well and deal with it when I am alone. Redefining what it means is all I can do.
I feel as though I have been climbing through the shadows. Afraid of the light. Climbing in the shadows – enjoying the climb, yet not the light that surrounds me. Afraid to let go, and unable to, when God clearly see's a reason to keep that love in my heart. I continue to climb - upward toward blue skies. It is what she would have inspired me to do in years past...in months past. On a clear star filled night recently I listened to a friend sing a song she had written. The words stopped the world around me as I tuned in...."Go and dream". She knew not what her song meant to me. Unintentional as it was, it struck a chord in me and gave me a little push towards the light. At that moment, during that evening, I was hiding in the shadow of my heart. Dealing with the ghost in the darkness. I have to admit that I didn’t hear the beginning of the song…until those words. Then she had my full attention. That same day I had a conversation with an old friend who knows of the ghost that haunts me. She told me – “Jim it is okay to love her. Love her all you want and to hell with anyone who doesn’t understand. Love will get you further than hate.” Those words are forever etched in my mind. So I look to the night now with a resounding sense of calmness. I climb towards a light that I shall not fear. Dream as I may, restless as I am, I know that I can’t shake what is inside and now I know it is okay to go ahead and dream.
