Week 20 ~ Letters to a Lost Lover ~ Ready for a New Way of Loving


Awe and wonder are words which

spring to mind for this new connection.


Dearest Mark,

If someone had told me a year ago that I would be writing this letter to you today, I can only imagine the disbelief that would have greeted them. Could I have believed you would have disappeared on me without a proper explanation or a chance to talk things through, after all we’d shared? Would I have been able to wrap my head and heart around the intensity of my emotional collapse following your disappearance? And what about all the mystery and magic that has unfolded since – how could another have explained that to the woman I used to be when it was something she had no context for?

And now I have one last thing to share with you before I, too, wander off into the rest of my life.  Mark, someone new has walked into my life. And the connection is so strong, so familiar, that it has touched both of us deeply. It’s like nothing I have felt before, even with you. I find myself wanting to sit in stillness on my own as often as I can, just so I can get used to the reverberation of this new connection deep inside of  me .

It’s not easy to describe how it feels. It has reached a place within me that I have never experienced before and I struggle to find words to describe it. Awe and wonder are two words that spring to mind.  Even as I’m sitting here, writing what I know to be my last letter to you, I find myself stopping and simply staring off into space, sensing this deep opening of the heart at an entirely new level. It’s not like falling in love or the thrill of a new attraction, both of which have always carried a huge amount of emotion for me. This connection is almost emotionless, like a quiet re-discovery of a love formed long ago but which carries none of the angst or craving that attraction can often carry. Like a match made in heaven, I know this is someone I’m going to be with – although for how long, I can’t tell. I barely know anything about him yet as a man and still, when I touch his face, it’s as if I’ve always known him, through many different appearances and lifetimes. If you can imagine looking at a dear friend dressed up for Halloween, making contact with their eyes through the facade of a rubber mask, then that’s kind of what it’s like. I look into his eyes and I see the ‘real him’, behind the physical body in which he is living.

Some connections are based mainly in this physical reality, based on shared interests, circumstances or sex. Some are more emotional – a lover who makes you feel loved, secure, happy. This one, though, is anchored at a totally different level, as if we’ve already agreed to be together and now our physical selves have the role of making it a reality in this dimension. Maybe it’s my own ability to go deeper into myself that allows me to connect deeper with another. But I know it’s more than that.

Strangely, I don’t love you less for loving him. I do still love you. But I’m beginning to understand that, despite the pain, you may have done me the biggest favour of my life by disappearing. Would I be where I am now if you hadn’t? I can see that the journey with you has brought me to a fundamental shift in how I love. I knew I couldn’t shut my heart down after you left and run the risk of having you pop up again in another five, ten or twenty years, only to wreak havoc on my life all over again. I knew I had to find a way of dealing with the pain without closing down. And I have done that, as well as so much more – something I am incredibly proud of despite the regrets about how our marriages ended.

So now I feel I’m ready for a new way of loving. A love which doesn’t involve ‘owning’ another. A love which honours my own journey as well as another’s, even if that means accepting that our paths may take us away from each-other. A love that carries the understanding that sharing love doesn’t necessarily involve commitment or a lifetime’s shared journey together – although it may. It’s a scary place to be in, consciously choosing not to bind myself or another to rules of how and where love can or cannot be felt. But it’s also immensely liberating and exhilarating. And it’s how I’ve really always wanted to love, yet was without the tools to support such a conscious choice.

Mark, if I have any wish right now it’s the old one of wishing I knew how you are. It would be wonderful to know that you’re happy with the choice you’ve made. Perhaps , if you’ve been reading these, some of what I’ve shared in my letters has made you smile, or even helped you with your new journey.

And I guess that’s it now. Over and out. So long and thanks for all the fish, as they say. A one-sided goodbye as I head off on my new journey to see where that will take me. Wish me luck, honey.

I love you, my dear friend. Take care.



(This is the last letter in an unfolding story.  If you are new to it and would like to read more, you can start by reading the introduction  or the first letter.)



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