Love is walking around the ancient ruins of Rome with your 23 year old daughter. Love is the top of your femur grinding directly into the socket of your hip with each step and doing your best to mask the pain. Love is waiting until the whole family is together before you take your last breath. Love is holding on. Holding out. Enduring pain. Taking pain. Giving what you have to someone else because you want to and expecting nothing in return.
We can’t or don’t all love like that. My mom was special. She showed me that there is a force more powerful than pain. One that surpasses and outlasts death. One the lives on and on and on in the hearts of others.
I knew so little of pain at 23. But I knew so much of unconditional love. And as I round the corner into mid life I hope my kids know love like I did. I can’t shield them from pain or hurt but I can show them the power of love and give them something to hold on to, always.
