THE KISS OF LIFE

 Love is difficult to define. Not even the most experienced of us can truly grasp or explain love to its truest and deepest meaning. Love is a never ending saga of experiences. It can be risky and quite often baffling. Love comes in many guises. It can be unconditional. It can be virtuous. It can be affectionate. And of course it can be sexual.

Love is really undefined. But there are three defining moments in the story of my love.

 The Kiss of Life:

The summer we met was hot and sultry; it was the kind of summer that could turn a flourishing friendship between a man and a woman into a steamy, torrid love affair. I don’t know if it was the warmer temperatures, the longer days, the later nights, or those extra summer cocktails, but by mid-August my friendship with my next-door neighbor Mark took a romantic turn. As the season began to shift so did my feelings and I felt the inexplicable thrill of falling head-over-heels in love. As summer wound down, Mark was gearing up to plunge head first into a busy work season. He had already cautioned me that his personal time would be limited from September through November, so it was with some surprise that I found him on my doorstep one evening with two tickets to San Francisco--he said he wanted to end the summer and begin our new romance with a trip to one of his favorite places.

We got to San Francisco early on the evening of August 24^th, a day which also happens to be my mother’s birthday. During the course of a year, there are two days likely to cause an outpouring of emotion for me, the first being my mother’s birthday and the second being the anniversary of her death. My heart broke the winter my mother died, and sadness was the glue still holding it together some 9,388 days later.

Summer marks the peak of tourism in the Bay area, but summers there can be cool and are usually accompanied by brisk sea winds and chilly, damp fog. Lucky for us, the oft’ anticipated Indian summer had arrived early and the evening was warm and a gentle balmy breeze warmed us as I slipped my hand into Mark’s and we set off on foot to explore. 

We strolled along granite plazas, past jazz and blues clubs, restaurants and cafes. We walked down hill and then back up for what seemed like an age and eventually found ourselves back at the hotel. I remember Mark made me laugh when he cracked a joke about his painful shin splints from the endless hill climbs--and then without warning I began to cry. It was the sort of crying that doesn't easily stop and threatened to put a damper on the weekend. I wanted to say it's not me crying, it's my soul. But the words were not there.

That night played out like a scene from a movie; I the broken damsel and Mark the accidental hero. But by morning my heart and soul were home. In an unlikely hotel room in San Francisco, I was kissed and left breathing. And without speaking a word, he said, I am here and I will always be here.

The Saddest Goodbye:

Mark had a dog. Sparky, a pure bred Dalmatian, was born with a silver spoon in her mouth and was simply spoiled rotten by Mark. In his eyes, she could do no wrong and in her eyes, I was the evil step-mother. Let’s just say that life was interesting when we moved in together.

One summer when Sparky was a senior, her legs began to give her problems and we noticed after long walks that she would have difficulty getting around the next day. Sometimes while eating, she was unable to control her legs as they would spread-eagle from a standing position into the splits. Then one morning, after going outside to use the doggy bathroom, she never returned and we found her stuck on the steps leading up to our house, her legs painfully spread-eagled. For the next two weeks, Mark lovingly carried her up and down the steps to her bathroom whenever she needed to go. Horribly, we realized her life was beginning to fail.

Sparky was extremely anxious with vet visits, so after much discussion we made the decision to have a local vet come to our home to assess her and to put her down if need be. It was a sad and difficult day for Mark.

The vet examined Sparky and confirmed what we had already realized. It was time to say goodbye. With tears streaming down his face, Mark got down on the floor with Sparky and cradled and stroked her like a baby as the vet gave her the needle and she took her final dying breaths. Watching from the doorway, I saw the pain and misery in her face lift as she looked into the eyes of her beloved Mark and for a moment, I felt what she felt, he is here, he will always be here.

 

The Unexpected Gift:

One evening back in April, Mark and I were sitting around our outdoor fire pit drinking wine. The day had no special significance other than it was Friday and we were together for the weekend after a week apart. I remember thinking to myself that after ten years together, we are still happy. Now I'm not one to confuse happiness with pleasure. Happiness between two people has more to do with effort, endurance and achievement.  Our relationship has become spacious and generous over the years; expectations are few, if any; life is good.

Mark is extraordinary. He has inner and outer strengths not always discernible to the average crowd. He is quick to temper and also to forgive. He is steadfast and has a tendency to be over-generous. When he smiles, I can feel it. He is my love, my best friend, and my soul mate.

Later that night Mark casually suggested we get married. His proposal was an unexpected delight. He spoke just three words, but what he said to me was, My heart is with you and I promise to always love you. With you I want to live. I am here and I will always be here.