Personal Journal

Perfect Understanding

I just had a long conversation, I guess you might say with Jean and god and I.
I talked about my being alone, and someday perhaps falling in love again, and about what I've learned about a lot of things, mostly myself and what we went through together.

I've come to the conclusion that really, I'll never be alone. In recent weeks I've come to a very comfortable recognition that I don't have any friends who could be emotionally supportive to me. I've got friends who would try to help me, but no confidantes. And that's what a friend to me really is.

At first I diddn't deal with it particularly well - wondering if it means something negative about me or the way I live my life. It does say something about the way I live, and about how rare friendship is in my life, but that's not necessarily negative.

In relation to Jean now, and recognizing I'm not truly alone, well, I have to choices regarding what to believe about where Jean is now. I'm spiritual, but I insist on having logic visible in the basic structure of my spiritual beliefs. I can choose to believe that Jean can see and understand me perfectly now, or I can choose to believe that she cannot. I'll not explain why in a public entry.

There's no comfort in thinking she can't be connected in any way to this world she lived in, and there's no harm in believing that Jean can in fact perceive me perfectly now. So she knows what's in my heart.

It makes me feel better to believe the latter. If I'm wrong, and the sense of comfort that brings is projected, I needn't ever be made aware of it. If Jean can perceive me, then I'm not alone. And I think that's why this solitude has finally begun to gleam, somewhat, with my recognition of its truth. It's not bad. It's good, because it's honestly where my life is. It's not negative.

There were times when Jean, in an argument, would deliberately hurt me and say that I was only still here because she would be dead, and I'd profit from it. Man, that still hurts to remember - and it's very shaming to admit that here. People might believe it if they don't know me well, or didn't know Jean well.

But now Jean knows how untrue that was (and how hurtful it was, but that's not material anymore - she was forgiven long ago for that).

I was talking to Jean in the shower, and saying how amazing a person she was, and again I was struck by how much better it would have been for the world if it had been me who died, and she who lived. She had done so much to make the world a better place, and I have done so little.

It made me realize again that the most worthwhile thing that I have ever done as a human being was to learn to love her the way I did, and to have the courage to be who I was for her as she got sick and ... well, died. I think it's the only thing I've done that goes any distance to redeem my soul against my inexcuseable sins. And I feel like that's certainly not enough to redeem my self fully.

You know, so I think about whether I'll ever be willing or even able to fall in love with someone. Most of the time, the thought of that feels like it carries the thorns of betrayal of Jean. But I expect I'll come more to grips with the idea in the future, that perhaps human beings are simply intended to love one another. But perhaps this love that I had with Jean is in fact the last I shall ever know.

As I was thinking about being alone, tonight, I realized that if I do in fact never have a love again, that that's okay, because it will mean that nothing I might ever have known would equal what I had with Jean. And knowing myself, I would never want to have a relationship with someone if I felt perpetually that someone I had loved previously was more fulfilling. I wouldn't cheat someone into being second best just so that I am not alone.

On the other hand, again, it makes me upset with myself to think that I might someday have a future and think of a lover as "better" than Jean. But I really don't think that could ever happen. Love is not that way, and Jean and I had what we had and it was, I'm not afraid to describe it now, as perfect. It wasn't continous bliss, but it was a real and successful relationship. I'm sorry it had to be taken from us, because I truly believe that if she had miraculously recovered, we would have had something close to continuous bliss on earth.

I think I really figured a lot about love out through my relationship with Jean. I think I know a lot more about life from having loved her and lost her. I won't say that anymore, I swear. From having her taken from me.

I may not always explain my journal well at all to the uninvolved observer of my life. It's not really possible. But tonight I realized that Jean now understands me at least as well as I understand myself, and that realization brings me comfort and peace.