“What was found was never lost.”

“And what was lost will never be found.”

I have begun writing this post many times. And each time, as soon as I touch the keyboard, my mind would register a blank. Thoroughly conceived and thought out, or so I tell myself, yet I have been unable to transfer it from my mind to the keyboard. As I begun to question the reason for this blockage, I slowly realized it was the powerful feelings in my heart that I had, that I hesitated to share. This comes more from my heart than my head and my mind has had a bit of trouble with the translation. So forgive me if it reads a little loose or doesn’t quite keep a continuity that makes sense to you, the reader and not me, the writer.

Years ago, many, many years ago, when I was first entering the early period of what is commonly known as adulthood, I learned what love meant to me. It was joyous, happy, deep, and overwhelming at times. Yet, it was also a burden of respect as I could not utter those three little words to a person without respecting what they meant; to me or to the person to whom I was speaking. Little did I realize at the time just how immense those words were. I was in love and oblivious to that fact. How very odd was it that I could be in love and not know it? But such was the relationship I was involved in at the time: it was carefree, simple, trusting, happy, fun and just plain wonderful without any reins or rules or obligations. And I didn’t recognize it for what it was until one day when I had to choose between respect and pleasure. I chose respect, and for the first time in my life, I knew what love meant to me. There are more words and phrases to define love than I could ever use, imagine, borrow, speak or write. But the ones that flash in my mind most, and you can jumble their order in any way you choose, are respect, humble, gracious, compassionate and unselfish. And yet on that special day, it was actions or lack of action that spoke the loud truth, not words; the actions screamed love like a frying pan up side the head. Outwardly, nothing appeared have taken place at all. In fact it was a few days before I came to my senses and let my eyes open up to see the light.

A short while later, a dumb bit of chiviaristic foolishness on my part led to a parting of the ways. The relationship ended. At least so I let myself believe. Forced myself to believe and accept. Well, mostly. I tucked that love away in my heart as though saving for a rainy day I knew would never come. I refused to give it up and yet, refused to let it see the light of hope.

But life goes on and I found love again, and married that new love. I have enjoyed that love’s blessings in the good times and fought to keep that love in the not so good times. I learned to share it with not just with my wife, but my family and my friends; to respect, to endure and to appreciate all that it meant and means to me and with those with whom I’ve shared love’s bounty through the years.

This is where it gets a little tricky and confusing.

From out of the distant past, a voice, a face, a love reappears. And it was exhilarating, exciting, wonderful, and ecstatically joyous. Through words and photographs alone, we met again. Both older, both wiser, both having learned more about the blessings and tragedy of love than we could have thought existed those many years ago when the two of us were closer. And nothing and everything has changed. We had both learned about marriage and children, and what it was like to love and marry that special someone; and how both wonderful and taxing a commitment it can be over the years. And we both learned that the love we found was never lost. But what we did lose, that special relationship, will never be found. Though our hearts never separated, our paths and choices in life did go separate ways. And we both know, learned, that they will never join again. So what we found was never lost, but what we lost will never be found.

Cherish your memories as that is all that is really ours to own.