The Last Glimpse

I can still see myself on the street ready to cross the road when I heard Francesco shout from a car “Hey baby.”

I didn’t know this would be the last time we’d meet each other alive.

Instead of being fully present to his big smile and deep love, I was all caught up in my head.

I remember feeling rushed about time.

Self-conscious about what I was wearing.

Worried about what people were thinking of me & how I looked.

And as a result, in that fleeting last glimpse together, I wasn’t truly present.

I’m seeing now the power of presence.

Let’s all give our presence to those we love.

It’s innocent of course but my insecure mind had been on overdrive.

So incessant is this voice at times in all its many forms:

“You don’t look good.”

“There’s no time to stop.”

“They’re going to think bad of you.”

That we literally just live in the world in our head missing out the world in front of us.

Later as I went home and found Francesco lying there dead, I could not describe why or how but I fell out of my head and into the deepest feeling of love I’d ever known.

This love enveloped me.

It told me what to do and guided me.

Instead of panicking or imagining my terrible future, I felt pulled into the present.

I felt truly safe there.

In an instant I’d gone from living in my head to living in truth.

How is it that such love, peace and safety would arise in death? I don’t know.

I just know that it was there and it had been there all along.

All throughout our relationship.

I’d felt it deeply at times between us both.

Then I’d get back into my head….

“Surely love should look this way or that way?”

“Surely if you love someone you do or don’t do this?”

I’d been trying to grasp love intellectually, measuring love based on what society says.

“Men should do this.”

“Women should do this.”

“A true relationship looks like….”

All this noise.

The same voice that stole my last moment with Fran, robbed me of that love we truly had.

Now he’s gone physically, so has the judgement in my head, this makes it easier to connect with him and see his signs.

I can see that Francesco’s dying opened a doorway to love, to experience REAL love, rather than the love I was making up.

Loss as a doorway to love I’ve often said.

Because in the loss of my beautiful man I’ve been gifted a deep experience of the feeling of love and it’s been carrying me through my grief.

It’s been guiding me to what and who I need.

It’s powerful, deep, trustworthy and it drowns out voice in my head.

Hope this helps you today.