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If I am honest, will you believe me? I suspect if you are reading this journal, you have reason to like me; but I am inclined to ask for a little faith here. Suspend disbelief for a few minutes. Just a bit.

When I say that I am at peace with the woman from the "best date ever", its true. Everything happens as it's meant to be; the choice comes in doing what is best and leaning from our experiences. Whatever my feelings for her, they are based in friendship. That she calls me her friend is an honor, and I will try and live up top being worthy. Its a matter of setting aside the inappropriate thoughts. Who hasn't fallen for some one they shouldn't; a friends lover, someone too old, or young? So when I tell you of my story, I ask you to keep faith with me.

Last night after finishing my work (which I should be getting back to now). I decided to give up on the three books I am currently reading. None of them did much for me. So not having the energy to go into town (Manhattan) I went out to a McBarnes and McNobles. They have books there, right? So while perusing the aisles, I came across, at eye level (i.e. on top of the bookshelves) a copy of Jane Eyre. Now I (like most Americans with High school diploma I suspect) have read Jane Eyre. "Best date Ever" girl had mentioned it as a book which brought her comfort. And there it was. Unabridged, no less; although with a hugely annoying introduction. The series of connections was to much, and the book was purchasable with the change in my pocket. I decided maybe I should try reading it without having to diagram the sentences or think about the plot. How I hated my tenth grade English teacher. He could make anything boring.

So I bought it. I had forgot what I liked about Charlotte Bronte compared with so many writers; she has an easy hand at narration. The story unfolds without apparent effort. But on some page 90 odd, when Jane's best fiend dies and is buried:

"Her grave is in the Breckenridge Church yard. For fifteen years after her death it was only covered by a gassy mound; but now a gray tablet marks the spot, inscribed with her name, and the word "Resurgem"."

Stopped me cold. There has been so much death in my life the last year. My Uncle, my dog, my relationship have all fallen ill suddenly and after lingering in illness, left me missing them. As I have gone on, I have struggled to understand these events, and to get passed them. Reading that passage made me realize that these things never fade. That the memory of my Grandmother looking down at her dying son is cast in my heart forever. Holding Annie before the vet gave her the last injection. I am not who I was before these moments. But they are not the price of love; they are a part of love. Because love isn't just about the good moments. Love is about accepting mortality and fate, suffering and the weaknesses (physically or otherwise) of that which we love. You don't get over your pain; you embrace it as part of the experience of love.

I have no regret for loving those that have passed from me. If there is anything I regret, it is that often I have taken for granted the presence of love in my life. If I could only have back a day of my last relationship before it became angry and hateful; I would treasure it more knowing what I know now. But the past is past, and I can no more bring back that love then I can take Annie to the Park.

So if you are reading this and you have some one you truly love; I implore you to spend time with them. Call your mother, hold your child, kiss your boyfriend, pet your dog. Because love is the greatest gift we have, and when someone you love is gone, they are gone.

So out of a date, and a misplaced infatuation, comes a lesson on love and death. If only every experience could be so enlightening. On the other hand maybe not; I have had all the enlightenment I can handle.

I am ready for some witty banter and pool on Wednesday. See all you NY readers there.