A Love Story

The Meaning of My Life has been a Series of Love Stories 

I was born on the Day of the Dead. My beautiful young Mother expected me on Halloween but I was 2 days late. She gave birth to me knowing she would be giving me up for adoption. I was raised and loved dearly by my adoptive family from just 10 days old. They also allowed for an open adoption with my birth parents so that, as I grew, I might never be left searching for answers I couldn't find. I always knew my birth parents through letters, phone calls and even a few visits throughout my childhood, though we lived a thousand miles apart.        

None of this phased me until my teen years when I started to intellectualize the fact that my whole life would have been an entirely different story, had I not been adopted. But just as I began to really start processing this unique part of myself, I received the news that my biological Mother had just been fatally struck in a hit-and-run car accident. She was killed instantly on a warm Summer night. With her sudden death, a part of me died along with her. A part of myself I’d never even had the chance to find yet. She was 37 years old. I was 18, the age that she was when she carried me in utero.

They say time heals all wounds but as the years passed, I only missed her more. My sense of loss only deepened as my future continued to unfold without her. I realize now that I spent my whole life subconsciously attempting to re-bond the fracture from infancy, deep within my psyche, through relationships with others. The wrong others.         

Nothing hurt me like losing love. Each heartbreak was a knife through my core that left me questioning the meaning of life itself, but I continued to emerge from every personal devastation a little stronger than before. I refused to let the dream inside me die.  Eventually my hopelessly romantic heart did finally find the man of my dreams who, coincidentally, was adopted at 10 days old. Search over.

Then one night, years later, I found something else that I had completely forgotten I had been looking for.

Deep in a meditative state, I had a life-changing vision of the immense, enveloping love of a mother who cradled my entire being in her arms. She gathered every piece of me back into place as I was wholly contained within the sea of her nurturing protection and love. I then started to morph through and into her, until I was the Mother, holding her within my arms, comforting the silent bellow of her own suffering. With this primordial embrace, everything lost was found, every bond broken was repaired. Finding our way back to each other, we remerged, beyond all space and time. I opened my eyes from this vision truly transformed, with a heart so filled up from within. With an unshakeable sense of self-love. With a deathless understanding of the power of love itself, in all its forms.

Ever since then I can feel her with me always. No matter the sadness that may sometimes surface, I am reminded that she is still here. I know that I carry her within the very vibration of my cells, because I know that love never dies.