Now, I was taken aback by firstly her honesty and secondly her pure stupidity. I know this might trip on many toes and that I might be hitting some raw nerves on my way out. So my mind was like on the verge of telling my tongue, who in turn would have told my mouth, to tell my friend what a condescendingly ignorant, and for lack of a better word how immensely childish she was in her notion that love can die.
Now I am of the believe that if something had died, what she had been sharing with her husband for this 9 years was not love to start with. In my book love does not die, crushes die, lusts dies, lies die, fetishes die, good looks die, sex appeal dies and all the other inconsequential shallow burst of emotions die. Love can’t die.
I have been through many relationships and I would not dare call anyone of them love. Love can do many things to you and moving on is not one of them. The moment we start to think that love can be forgotten, moved and/or estranged then we are indeed doing a great disservice to Love. I am sometimes, seriously saddened by how some people attribute their mixed emotions and shallow wants to be the child of love.
If love could die, what else is there left in this world. I am divided in that if I should call up my friend “at the risk of me loosing her friendship” and tell her that it is my calculated and totally un-learned opinion that it was her infatuation on her husband that had died. Not her love.
What makes me so sure love can’t die some would ask, well it’s because I have seen love. No it’s not what you think either. I saw love when I was talking to this 86 year old Chinese woman in NUH hospital who was listening to me explain something to her, all the while hugging the hand of her husband who was sitting beside her.
Married for 56 years, the way he decided to hold the stubborn glass door fir her while they were leaving that was where I met love. No, love does not come differently to different people; it’s we who sometimes rush into things based on emotional highs triggered by countless influences. That is how we end up missing out on love that is how we miss the train. When looks, condos, race, short skirts, family, people, friends, perception make us miss out on real love. It is indeed sad when one ends up wasting nine years of her live, coated in the fabrication of a synthetic love and thinking when time comes something can make love die.
The marriage died, whatever there was it died.
Love did not die !
Love does not die.
