forget me not...

When you love someone, you're supposed to put that person's feelings before your own. Selfish thoughts should never arise. I remember years ago watching a sad, yet inspirational story on Oprah about a woman. She had a young child and a handsome husband that loved her. She had a beautiful home. She had a successful career. She also had cancer...terminal cancer. The story was about how she was creating dozens of video diaries for her daughter. Diaries that would teach her daughter all the things that she couldn't once she was gone...once she was dead. The videos contained advice on everything...from how to put on makeup... to how to survive a broken heart...to how to bake a cake. This woman wasn't concerned with her own feelings. She was all about helping her family survive without her...helping them move on and be happy once she was gone. She even talked of how she had encouraged her husband to find love again once she died. She looked into his eyes and held his hands...frail...sick...sweet...and told him this. People in the audience wiped their tears. How noble...how touching...how loving. When you see these types of stories, you wonder... Could I be so loving?...so selfless?...such a good partner?...such a generous friend?

I never wonder. I never wonder, because I know. I know how I would; how I do feel. I am not generous...or selfless. I'm ashamed, because I want to be...but I'm not. I should be...but I can't. I don't just let people in my heart. I don't easily trust or love, so when I do, I am seriously invested in that relationship. When I care for people, I care with all my heart...with everything that I have. I want my loved ones; my friends to be healthy and happy...free from sadness or pain. Mostly, I want to be cared for and loved and needed in return. I want to be their everything; just as they are mine.

When a friend leaves me, I want that friend to miss me...not just every now and then, or a little, but intensely...all the time. I want the things the we once enjoyed to be a reminder of me. I want the absence of my presence to be noticeable. When I die, I don't want my family...my husband...my children...to be happy. I don't want them to move on with ease. I don't want them to love another...one that takes my place. I want them to be sad. I want them to miss me. I don't want there to anyone that could possibly replace me. These desires make me question my ability to love. Am I too self absorbed?...too needy to truly love? After the questioning, comes the worry.

When I try to figure out how I can love so much...and so little? How I can give so much...and demand more? How I can want nothing but complete happiness...nothing less than exceptional...and nothing but grief and suffering? When I worry, I realize that I don't really want the people I love to be sad and miserable. I want to know that I made a difference. I want to know that I am loved. I am not filled with malice. I am not incapable of loving. I'm just afraid.

I'm afraid of letting go and I'm afraid to be let go of. I guess I equate my letting go with my giving up. I'm afraid that if others let go, that it means they don't care...that maybe they never really did...that I was never really loved in the first place. I feel like it means being forgotten. Letting go is none of these things. Letting go is not an end, it's the beginning of something more. It's the beginning of new found independence, strength, and abilities. It's the ability to stand back and appreciate what I once had. It's the ability to trust...to have faith. It's gaining the ability to believe those that say they love me, that they care...even if I never see them again. Letting go is about love...not for another, but for myself. If I can learn to love myself, it will make it easier to believe that others DO love me. So, now I'm going to try. It won't be easy and I may not be successful at first, but I will say to those that I have to leave or that find it necessary to leave me..."forget me not"...and I will not worry about being forgotten. I will believe and I will be remembered.