If you have the capacity to love, you have the capacity to hurt. They are but two different sides of the same coin. Many who have suffered a painful loss, especially those who are young when the loss occurs, sometimes wall themselves off from future hurt by tamping down their capacity to love. This is hardly an even trade, and no way to live a life.
Kevin’s death has caused me, and all of those whom I love just as fiercely as I love him, to feel a level of emotional pain that I never knew existed. There was actual physical pain in the beginning, and as the shock wore off, like emotional Novocain, it had dulled the pain for a time, but it was no cure for it. All I could do was acknowledge the pain and learn to live with it.
I’ve struggled to find words to express this pain. If you have children and you have imagined what it might be like to lose one, but you have been fortunate, all I can say for sure is it’s worse than you imagined.
Now, for the sake of argument, let’s say I was offered a deal. I could avoid all that pain, but the price of avoiding it was never having Kevin as part of my life. If I don’t want the pain I can’t have the love. Would I make that deal?
Not one chance in hell would I even think about it, it’s a non-starter.
I wouldn’t trade one second of the time I spent with Kev over the years I was privileged to be a part of his life. There’s a lot I wish I could change, starting with that last night but I wouldn’t ever think about giving up the relationship we shared.
If you are young and you have felt the pain of loss I beg you, never give up the capacity to love. If you are hurting because of Kevin’s death please don’t give up on love in his name, it would be the exact opposite of what he’d want, and would be in direct conflict with everything he stood for.