All We Know Of Love

Emily Dickinson once wrote, “All we know of Love, is Love is all there is”

Today Love is on my mind, specifically the difference between Real Love and all the rest.
As the fifth child of six, I often struggled to get “my share” of the love, but what I never understood was that my share could not be gotten.
I looked to get, what I thought then was love, by giving, doing and being what others wanted me to be. At a very young age, before I was even five, I became an excellent listener with a sympathetic ear; I learned how to clean the kitchen and bathroom (the jobs nobody else wanted) until they shined. For a time I remember singing a Shirley Temple song to my mother before I went to bed at night because it made her smile. I derived great pleasure from making my parents breakfast in bed and when I was old enough I even made muffins for my mother’s friends who came to visit. I remember a friend of my mother’s once complaining about stains in her toilet and my mother telling her to ask me what I used to get the toilets so clean, (I also remember feeling embarrassed by this). I remember routinely scratching my older brother’s back, and drinking wine I didn’t like, just to make my Sicilian Grandmother happy. I recall doing these things and many more, all to get what I thought was love.
During these years I received many substitutes for love; there was some brief recognition, occasional praise and appreciation. The special perks were temporary companionship, smiles and laughs, but all too often I was just simply overlooked. The message seemed clear to me: Love must be earned.

Predictably, I grew up believing that love is something that is earned through deeds and the self-imposed contortions of my very being. I honestly believed that in order to be loved I had to be and do what others wanted. Over time I came to the very painful and profound realization that I had abandoned myself and denied large parts of who I really was in order to be loved. As I evolved and grew to understand the truth about love, I was often struck by the clear and heartbreaking fact that many of my family members were much happier having me in their lives on those prior terms.

Today, many years and some confusing, frustrating and ungratifying relationships later, I have finally come to the painful yet magnificent realization: that love can only be given and received free of charge. If who I am is insufficient for another to love me then no matter what I may do, regardless of whether or not it is at great expense to my soul, I will never attain what is simply unattainable through deeds…Real Love.

After I had my children I realized so vividly how my love for them was contingent upon nothing. I knew that nothing they could do could affect the love I had for them. I’ll never forget the look on my son’s face when I explained to him that even though there may be times when I don’t like what he does, I never stop loving him, even for a moment, at this realization he beamed with delight. For myself, now armed with a broader understanding of love, this marked a very significant moment in my life.

Today I still occasionally grapple with the demons of my past, the guilt for not doing something someone else thinks I should, the missed birthdays and holidays we are overtly or covertly summoned to acknowledge… only to once again be reminded that real love is not about the obligatory rules set by those who don’t understand that love is not a thing that can be quantified by deeds or words. It cannot be served up to relatives or old friends just because they require it to be. Love is simply there, sitting quietly, serenely flowing freely without strings and demands. The only thing one can do with their love is to feel it and be, just be.