The Cost of Love

Let’s start with the inevitable. The inescapable.

As soon as we start making connections, the chance of that connection being severed at some point is now 100% certain. The stronger the connection, the more painful the severance. The only way to not have that pain is to never make connections. And what an utter waste of life would that be?

I did choose this script. Owning that choice is empowering. I don’t need evidence or to come up with a whole theory on how the universe works to feel empowered in this life. It’s simple. I have chosen to love. And with love comes pain. It is our existence.

The big question is: is it worth it? Is life worth living?

I’ve often wondered whether the joyful moments in life are worth the sorrow, the suffering, or even just the frustration. This may come as a surprise, but in my younger years (I know I’m still young, so just indulge me), especially during those awful moments, I’ve often said no. I can think of the exact texture of the road beneath my feet, the angle of the sun, when I thought surely the good was not worth the bad. Maybe I’d rather not have the good times to avoid the bad times. (No need for concern as you can see I’m still here.) I don’t know about you, but I think of death a lot: fear for the death of those I depend on as a child; sorrow for the death of those I tangentially knew who departed far too early; playing it in my head a plausible way to end my own life, but that will be too hard on the people who love me, so perhaps we can all get out of here together? That is the truth I don’t want you to know about me.

All those thoughts droned on when I had no real cause to worry. But something shifted when, you could say, I finally have a real reason to worry about losing someone whom I have chosen to make a connection with. Someone whom I have without reservation opened myself up to bond with.

It would no doubt be excruciating if that bond were to be severed. It already hurts. However, this pain has also brought clarity. Through squinted eyes, this is what I see: I see love is such a beautiful and brilliant thing. It’s the shiny, unblemished diamond in the middle of the ash and dust and blood and grime. It outshines all of the mess of our humanity. So do I think it’s worth it? Absolutely yes. Love is worth anything and everything, even life itself. If living is what it takes to love, then yes.

Some say pain is the cost of life. That’s never been a strong enough argument to persuade me. What is life that is so precious that makes you always want just one more day of it? It might work for some, it might work when I myself am at that desperate edge of existence, but it’s not enough for me to accept that life is worth living just because it is. Not in the everyday. Not when I have to put one foot before the other. However cliche, love is what makes life worth living to me. Perhaps life and all its burdens are the cost of love. And I would pay anything to see that spark, to feel that warmth, to experience that mystical entanglement with one another, with everything the world has to offer.

I would pay anything to love.

And when his pain bleeds through to me via our bond, I know I have chosen to love, and in that choice, I will gladly and ever so gratefully pay for every moment of it with all I am.