Tuesday, April 6, 2010

Park Bench Conversations

I was having a conversation with my mother about a man who once asked her to marry him. He loved her with abandon and never stopped.

"Yes, but that's old news," she says.

"Love is never old news," I say.

This made me wonder about hope and all it has to offer. If there is nothing else in this life, at least let there be hope because without it we are directionless.

"He called to tell me he was moving out of the country. He told me if I asked him to stay, he would," she says.

"Excuse me," I say, at a loss for words.

I pressed for more information and received the complete story which goes something like this. He was in love. She was in like. They parted. He never moved on.

Everyone knew he was the right one for her, but there was someone else, someone who seemingly offered all the right things. She loved. He left. They split. And somewhere along the way, she lost hope.

"Must be nice to still have that," I say. That referring to the long-standing adoration.

"Of course, everyone appreciates being loved a certain way," she says.

I searched for any semblance of gratification in her expression only to realize a sense of remorse. For the first time, I listened to a story I had heard several times and finally understood what she was trying to convey. She was teaching me to not only accept the love we think we deserve but to welcome a love that is unconditional. For that, I am forever grateful, for that is the kind of love she has for me.

Be that as it may, I am still not satisfied by the outcome of our conversation. I see my mother, and I see a distressed woman who deserves the stars on a silver platter. I have hope that one day she will receive nothing less. She, however, has lost all hope.

In all my frustration, I inadvertently tell my mother to kill herself. It was like word vomit. I felt the words rolling off my tongue, immediately regretting any utterance of such a thing. I felt as if I was attempting to jump start a car with no engine.

So I have to wonder, is hope, once gone, lost forever?