How many times have I been in love? More than a few. How many of them lasted? They all lasted a while, but eventually they all passed from the living present to the gone-but-not-forgotten phase. I still love them all, and for all I know they still love me. But we don't see each other anymore, nor call, nor write. [cue the music] tum dee dum dee dum . . . When you're lo-o-onesome, my swe-e-etheart, does your heart beat for me?
Music is a pretty good palliative. It always works for me, even if it takes a while. Or a new love, that works even better, but after a while that wears off too.
Humm humm huummm . . . I fell in love with love one night when the moon was low. I was unwise with eyes unable to see. I fell in love with love everlasting, but love fell out with me.
Maybe I am too old for this forum. Maybe I am the only one here who remembers these songs. There were hundreds of them, all beautiful in their misery. Nobody writes songs like that anymore.
I remember scribbling in my college notebook during one boring class the lyrics to a song that was stuck in my head: In the still of the night, as I gaze from my window at the moon in its flight, my thoughts all stray to you. In the still of the night, while the world is in slumber, oh, the times without number, darling, when I say to you, do you love me as I love you? Are you my life to be, my dream come true? Or will this dream of mine fade out of sight, like the moon growing dim, on the rim of the hill, in the still still of the night?
After class I went for coffee, and a buddy of mine, who was much more of a Lothario than I was, helped himself to my notebook, read the lyrics, and not having dreamed his young life away listening to love songs on the radio in his youth, as I did, complimented what he thought was my original poetry. I complimented him on his good taste, and confessed that the words were not mine, but those of a great songwriter. Sorry I can't give you the name, but you could look it up if you care to know, because Mr. Google knows who it was.
Then there was Ambrose Bierce, whose mettle was tried reporting on the Civil War, watching cousins from one side of the family slaughter cousins from the other side. If he wasn't a cynic going in, he certainly came out as one. His comment on love was that it is a temporary form of insanity, curable by marriage. I thought that was a good quip, but not the last word on the subject, because my own parents loved each other to the bitter end, even though they drove each other crazy.
So KB, you have to be strong. We all feel for you. I know a lady who found the love of her life, finally, in her seventies. You just never know.
In movies, I prefer love stories with sad endings, because in my experience that's how it always goes. There is redemption in there somewhere, but it's usually covered over, hidden by other feelings.
Send me a little piece of your heart, KB, and I promise I will love it for the rest of my life.
Now you've got me in such a mood, I will have to recommend you dig out a few Leon Redbone albums. Seriously, you should do that.