As I wake up this morning at my normal 5:15 time, I’m thinking about Shayna again. There aren’t many days when Shayna isn’t the first thing on my mind. Will that change? I really don’t know. Do I want it to change? I don’t think so. Even if I don’t think of her first thing in the morning, I see her 2′x3′ picture hanging over the stairs as I come out of my room and I blow her a kiss.
I realize that missing someone is still that love that you had for them and them not being there to give it to them. Love, without an object to bestow it on, is painful. I remember learning of four types of love many years ago- agape- unconditional love- similar to parental love; eros- romantic love; phileo- brotherly love; and storge- the love of community and family. Different types of loves for different types of relationships. What comes to me next though is there are as many kinds of love as there are people in your life. When Tywana proposed having a second child, I could not imagine how I was going to make that work. I thought love was a finite thing. It comes from your heart, a finite source, I reasoned. My heart was full of love for Tywana and Kayla. There was no room for anyone else. After Shayna was born, I learned that love is not limited. Our hearts can pump out an infinite amount of love. The girls used to try to get me to say which of them I loved more. Kayla even tried to get me to name a favorite the other day, I guess assuming that since Shayna wasn’t here, i would finally tell her. Well, first of all, Shayna is right here listening. I’m sure of that. Secondly, I truly don’t have a favorite. Kayla and I share things that I did not share with Shayna. Shayna and I share things that I do not with Kayla. My love for each of them is unique and cannot be quantified or even qualified. There is no comparison.
Then I thought of others in my life that I love and I realized the feeling of love for them has a similarity but each has a different energy. I started going through my grandparents, all crossed over now. My feelings for each of my grandmothers is different. My love for my uncles, my aunts, each are different. Thinking of this thing we call love, I realized it’s a lot more complex than I understood, more complex, more nuanced. DeBarge’s “All This Love” then became my ear worm for this morning. The line “All This Love is waiting for you…” played in a loop, the only lyrics I could remember. I’m saving up the love I have for all of them, Shayna especially, until the day I can give it to them.
