I promised myself I would write today, but I've done all of the other things instead, while humming and singing City of Stars from La La Land over and over and over...
... Are you shining just for me?
I saw the movie for the second time again last night with my daughter and two of my girlfriends. Together we sat, all weepy-eyed and bewildered at the end. I already knew how it ended of course. It was like seeing it for a second time was my attempt at coming to some sort of peace with it. But, as it turns out, I suck at closure.
As if I didn't already know this.
It isn't necessarily an unhappy ending, not for the characters anyway - but it's quite devastating for those of us who fall in love with them in the film. We, the hopeless romantics with our handfuls of popcorn, falling in love with love, regardless of how unrealistic it may be.
The characters share a deep, passionate love for one another - the kind of love that will likely last for a lifetime - but sometimes, love can outlast a relationship. They don't end up together and for those of us who buy into the whole happily ever after thing - at least in our movies - the ending leaves us feeling all of the things except happy.
My daughter, almost thirteen and typically impervious, looks at me with tears brimming the corners of her eyes.
"Some people are only meant to be in our lives for a season," I tell her... and myself.
And in life, the lesson of letting go is equal to that of loving. I had a difficult time learning how to do either, so I'd always felt they were mutually exclusive.
As King Solomon said, there is a time, a season, for everything..."A time to search and a time to quit searching. A time to keep and a time to throw away" (Ecclesiastes 3:6).
When we never really learn how to let go of something or someone we love, we fail to realize that sometimes, loving means letting go. For them. For us.
Sometimes, the act of letting go is the purest form of true, unconditional love.
I'm still learning.