The Past Tense

As I write this I am on a plane somewhere between New York City and Salt Lake City. I have had a rough week as many of you know. A week that I don’t need to recount. One of the things I have been struggling with the most is the past tense. My brain is framing sentences about Isaa in the past tense and I am constantly doing battle with it because I don’t want it to be the past tense. It is a battle that I was loosing. But writing in my journal on the plane while listening to The Idan Raichel Project’s “Siyaishaya Ingoma” 
(Sing Out For Love) I wrote down the line ‘I love him’. And it dawned on me that that sentence will never be framed in the past tense. Not that one. I honestly smiled to myself for the first time all week because after this realization an incredible calm swept over me. What I was left with were incredible memories of the two of us together. And I was happy.

I realize now that I will be okay. I still hurt unbearably, but those memories still make me happy. Happy as if he were still here. They are tainted by loss and absence, but they are still beautiful. They are still the holy moments that they always were. Love is never past tense.


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