// Thought #319 on Love //

Today, while at the bookstore, a very small elderly lady who looked as though I could scoop her right up and carry her away in one swift motion, asked for my help. At first, I could hear her voice but saw no one, “Excuse me miss, this frame is a 4x6 right?” Down near my feet there she sat, perched on the edge of a bookshelf. Her hair was wiry and as stark white as a sheet of paper, and she peered over her tiny frame glasses which matched her body’s tiny frame well. I took a step closer and squinted to see the label which did in fact read: 4x6. “Yes! It is.” I smiled as best I could through my mask. “Do you have any others? I’m not sure how this one works and I don't think I like it.” Now I do not work at this store, but I did my best to help. Eventually I just had to admit I didn’t work there before I dug a hole too deep to climb out of. “Oh! You just looked like a real problem solver I guess, sorry about that dear.” She laughed, and so did I. She told me how she was buying the frame to put a photo of her granddaughter in. “She’s beautiful you know - she’s in a lovely dress for her prom, and you know that was a really big deal this year. I have a picture of her in her graduation gown framed too, so now I just need to frame the other one. She’s just gorgeous you know.” Even though I didn’t know this for sure, as I’d never met her granddaughter, I believed her. 

She carried on talking about her granddaughter like she was the sun and she worshipped her. With every word, (even through her mask) I could tell her smile was getting bigger and I could hear pride filtered through the cotton hiding her mouth. I think she could’ve talked about anything and I would’ve listened. Her disposition somehow made it clear to me what really matters in our little lives. She had lived an entire life which I knew nothing about for I only met her moments ago, but after decades of inhabiting this big round rock the thing she wanted to talk about was someone she loved. So much, that she needed to tell me - a total stranger. Her small musings in this vast universe may have only been heard by me in that moment, but the feeling behind the words she spoke could’ve lit a spark in a thousand hearts. People are the only thing that really matters here in this life. See, she could have simply asked if the store carried other frames by the same dimensions, received an answer and moved along, but instead she shared a little part of her life with me, a story I hadn’t even asked for - a gift. She shared her unsolicited joy with me and even though I’m sure she didn’t think twice about it, I dwelled on our interaction for the rest of the day. She isn’t the first senior citizen I’ve encountered who shared quiet thoughts on a long life, but I’d never thought much about the other interactions. Suddenly I began to think: one day, I might be sitting at the bottom of a bookshelf, legs too old and tired to carry me anymore, holding a frame, hoping someone will tell me if it’s the right one and also be patient enough to listen to my story of the person whose photo I so desperately want to frame... 

I guess what I’m trying to say, in a very long-winded, probably confusing way, is that we should love more. I don’t just mean in a romantic sense either; I also mean platonic love and familial love and self-love. Some people have to beg for love and then go ahead and call it a gift, so if you’re lucky enough to feel loved or to love someone, don’t waste time being afraid of sincerity. Let them know, show them, write it down for them if you need to. But please, don’t shrug it off - don’t let it go unheard. Loving means being sincere which means being a little vulnerable or an admittance to caring, and I know people love to seem hard and immune to feelings to protect themselves, so when someone is sincere it scares people. Sincerity is foreign and thus often rejected, much like when a body rejects an organ after transplant. Its efforts are simply to protect us, but it’s actually killing the thing keeping us alive. So call me melodramatic but I think similarly about being sincere. It’s killing some integral part of us all to keep rejecting it all the time. 

I personally adore when people show me they love me by being sincere. I think everyone should share their heartfelt thoughts and genuine fears with each other, scream profoundness wherever they may go, allow the realest, truest parts of themselves to see the outside world. I think it’s okay if it makes people uncomfortable. Maybe that’s a step in the right direction. There’s nothing wrong with being sincere, there’s nothing wrong with loving, there’s nothing wrong with being loved. We need to start providing ourselves the allowance to tell people how important they are to us, to be generous in what we give, to be exposed, susceptible, tender. It's okay to do those things and I think when we repress feelings in the realm of love, we deny ourselves and those dearest to us the greatest joy of life, the thing we'll want to be talking to a stranger in a bookstore about fifty years down the road. People will always remember how you made them feel even long after they forget your actions and words, the love you provided will continue to pulse through their blood even when their brain fails them in old age.

One day when I die, I hope that at my funeral the feeling that pierces people the worst, is love. I know that sentence sounds awkward but as I’m sure you know, love is a double edged sword. It can hurt just as much as it can feel euphoric. I hope everyone sitting at my wake will know just how completely I loved each of them. I hope that rather than grieving a loss of life they’ll grieve the love. But also, have been loved so thoroughly that they continue to feel its presence even after I’ve gone and can give no more. This is my greatest hope but also my greatest fear, because there’s a chance they may not feel this way, and if the afterlife is real or I’m looking upon the room of people as some white sheet Charlie Brown ghost, and cannot sense that they felt loved – I will have failed every one of them, and myself. I will have failed to tell them when I loved them and I think that’s just about the worst thing you can do in this life. Something you didn’t do. To have left someone wondering until their own demise if you loved them at all. 

An act of love can change a persons life, for better or sadly sometimes worse. But even in it's lowliest form it teaches us something and makes us better at loving others. It's one of the few intangible things that nourishes us and so we shouldn't be weary of consuming it. It embraces us without physical touch. It proves to be a good home. Love embodies people and people can embody love too. Unfortunately if you came here for advice from an expert and made it through this mess of thought, you've realized you're in the wrong place. The best I can do, if you'll accept guidance about love from an amateur, is this:

Step one: Tell someone you love them today whether through a hug or a note or a picture frame you carefully picked out for their photo. Make it clear it's love you're giving them, not to be confused with something less valuable. 

Step two: refer to step one.