Plus j’avance dans la vie, moins je crois à l’amour parfait.

Je ne dis pas que je crois moins à l’amour. Peut-être même que j’y crois davantage. Mais je ne le cherche plus dans cette image sans défaut que l’on nous a donnée, deux êtres qui se comprennent sans parler, qui ne se blessent jamais, qui se choisissent chaque matin avec la même certitude, la même tendresse, la même lumière.

Je n’ai jamais vu cela.

J’ai vu des gens s’aimer et ne pas savoir se parler. J’ai vu des êtres se manquer alors qu’ils dormaient dans le même lit. J’ai vu de la tendresse cachée sous de la colère, de la peur déguisée en indifférence, du désir transformé en reproche. J’ai vu des personnes se quitter alors qu’une partie d’elles continuait d’attendre le retour de l’autre.

J’ai vu l’amour faire du bien. Je l’ai aussi vu faire mal.

Et pendant longtemps, j’ai cru que cette douleur prouvait que ce n’était pas de l’amour. Je pensais que le véritable amour devait nous protéger de tout. Qu’il devait guérir les blessures, calmer les peurs, effacer les doutes et rendre les choix évidents.

Mais l’amour n’est pas un médicament. Il ne remplace ni la maturité, ni la parole, ni le courage. Il ne répare pas automatiquement ce que l’enfance a brisé. Il ne donne pas à quelqu’un la capacité d’aimer simplement parce qu’il éprouve quelque chose de profond.

On peut aimer et fuir.

On peut aimer et mentir.

On peut aimer et ne pas savoir accueillir l’autre.

On peut même aimer tout en détruisant ce que l’on aime, non parce que cet amour était faux, mais parce que l’on n’avait pas les mains capables de le porter.

C’est peut-être cela que j’ai mis le plus de temps à comprendre. La force d’un sentiment ne garantit pas la justesse de nos gestes. On peut posséder un trésor et ne pas savoir où le déposer. On peut recevoir un amour immense et le vivre comme une menace, parce qu’il éclaire des endroits de nous que nous avions passé notre vie à garder dans l’ombre.

Alors l’amour se déforme. Il devient attente, contrôle, silence, sacrifice. Il demande à l’autre de prouver sans cesse qu’il ne partira pas. Il veut être rassuré, réparé, reconnu. Il finit parfois par exiger de l’autre ce qu’aucun être humain ne peut donner entièrement.

La perfection.

Pourtant, rien n’est parfait dans ce monde. Ni les familles, ni les corps, ni les souvenirs. Même les plus beaux paysages portent les traces de l’érosion. Même les arbres les plus solides ont des branches mortes. Même la lumière crée une ombre dès qu’elle rencontre quelque chose.

Pourquoi l’amour serait-il la seule chose exemptée de cette loi ?

Nous avons cru qu’un amour véritable devait être pur, continu, limpide. Mais la vérité humaine est rarement limpide. Elle avance avec ses contradictions. Elle désire une chose et en craint une autre. Elle veut être libre et retenue. Elle veut être connue, puis se cache dès qu’un regard s’approche trop près.

Aimer quelqu’un, ce n’est donc pas rencontrer un être achevé. C’est rencontrer une histoire encore en train de s’écrire. Une histoire pleine de ratures, de pages arrachées et de chapitres que cette personne elle-même ne comprend pas encore.

Et être aimé, ce n’est pas être choisi comme une statue parfaite. C’est être vu en mouvement, dans ce que l’on réussit comme dans ce que l’on rate. C’est être regardé sans que chaque faiblesse devienne une condamnation. C’est pouvoir dire, aujourd’hui je n’ai pas su aimer correctement, sans que cela signifie, je ne t’ai jamais aimé.

Cela ne veut pas dire qu’il faut tout accepter.

L’imperfection n’excuse pas la cruauté. L’amour ne transforme pas la violence en tendresse. Il ne nous oblige pas à rester là où nous disparaissons. Reconnaître qu’un amour est imparfait ne signifie pas se sacrifier pour lui jusqu’à perdre son propre visage.

Il existe des fautes après lesquelles on ne peut plus vivre ensemble. Il existe des blessures qui changent définitivement la forme d’une relation. Il existe des amours réels qui ne savent pas construire une vie réelle.

C’est peut-être cela, la vérité la plus difficile.

Un amour peut avoir existé et ne plus pouvoir continuer.

Il peut rester vivant quelque part en nous, tout en devenant impossible dans le monde. Il peut continuer à respirer dans une mémoire, dans une chanson, dans la façon dont nous regardons une rue, sans pouvoir redevenir une maison.

Longtemps, j’ai voulu décider que ce qui avait échoué n’avait jamais été vrai. C’était plus simple ainsi. Si tout était faux, je pouvais condamner l’histoire entière et espérer m’en libérer. Mais je commence à comprendre que certaines choses ont été vraies sans être éternelles. Certaines promesses ont été sincères au moment où elles ont été prononcées. Certains gestes ont contenu tout l’amour dont nous étions capables à cet instant, même si cet amour n’a pas suffi à nous sauver.

Peut-être que grandir, c’est renoncer à juger le passé uniquement par sa fin.

Une histoire ne devient pas entièrement mensongère parce qu’elle se termine mal. Un arbre n’a pas été imaginaire parce qu’un jour il tombe. Il a donné de l’ombre. Il a abrité des saisons. Il a grandi avec nous. Puis quelque chose a cédé.

Je n’ai jamais vu d’amour parfait. Mais j’ai vu des amours courageux. Des amours qui revenaient après une dispute. Des amours qui apprenaient à demander pardon sans effacer la faute. Des amours qui acceptaient de regarder leurs propres blessures au lieu de les déposer sur le dos de l’autre.

J’ai vu des gens imparfaits essayer de s’aimer un peu mieux que la veille.

C’est peut-être tout ce que l’on peut demander.

Non pas un amour sans erreurs, mais un amour qui ne fait pas de ses erreurs une demeure. Non pas une histoire sans douleur, mais une histoire où la douleur peut être dite. Non pas deux êtres qui ne tombent jamais, mais deux êtres qui refusent de se piétiner lorsqu’ils sont à terre.

Je ne crois plus à l’amour parfait.

Je crois à un amour vivant. Un amour qui doute, qui tremble, qui se trompe, qui parfois arrive trop tard. Un amour qui porte les marques de ceux qui l’ont traversé, comme la mer porte les traces invisibles de toutes les tempêtes.

Et peut-être que sa beauté vient précisément de là.

L’amour n’est pas beau parce qu’il est parfait.

Il est beau parce que, malgré tout ce qui en nous sait fuir, mentir, avoir peur et se protéger, quelque chose continue encore à vouloir rejoindre quelqu’un.

Similar to yesterday, I just don’t feel like myself. I don’t feel excited or propelled to do anything. I have my friend’s baby shower to plan, but I haven’t even started and it’s coming up in just a few days. I hope that if I just take it easy today, then tomorrow may be better?

Thank you for your message. I am currently out of office with no set return date. I will get back to you when the time is right.

I took my brother and sister in law to the airport this morning and then came home to sleep. That is pretty much all I did. I did also go to pottery for about an hour to glaze a piece but then came home to sleep more.

I have felt really out of it and out of touch. I think I am struggling but I don’t know how to make it better and I don’t know how to ask for help since I don’t know what is up with me. I just feel sad and tense.

Thank you for your message. I am currently out of office with no set return date. I will get back to you when the time is right.

A lot has happened the last few weeks and unfortunately I have been traveling, busy, out of connection, or too tired to keep up. This is a quick snapshot of each day since my last entry.

Day 67

My parents and I arrived to San Francisco, my brother picked us up. We had time to grab dinner with my brother’s soon to be mother-in-law and go to bed after.

Day 68

Woke up and grabbed breakfast with my brother, his fiancee and her mom and grandma. We spent the entire day together, driving around SF and exploring Muir Woods. In the late afternoon, we split up and my parents and I grabbed dinner together, walked along the beach, found the Ocean Calling exhibition, took a Waymo, did some light shopping and headed back to my brother’s house.

Day 69

My parents and I left SF early in the morning and headed straight to Pinnacles National Park. We did a fun hike through a cave and stamped our National Park Passports. We drove 4ish hours to visit my uncle and hang out with him for a few days.

Day 70

Hung out with my uncle and helped him with some repairs that he wasn’t able to do by himself. It felt like such special time for my dad and for him. I am really glad we planned for extra time for them to see each other.

Day 71

Another full day with my uncle. We grocery shopped, cooked, and my dad and uncle taught me a new card game. They used to play it when they were kids all of the time. It was so much fun!

Day 72

We said our goodbyes early in the morning and headed to Lake Tahoe. It was mostly a driving day, but we were super excited to arrive since my oldest brother, his wife and the boys were already there. Everyone else arrived later that evening… (I couldn’t wait to see him again).

Day 73

The wedding was at sunrise. I probably could have prepared better, but it felt really hard to plan for this one. It turned out beautiful, there were a few mistakes but there is nothing I can do about it now. We grabbed breakfast as a group and then attempted to have a beach day, but Tahoe was very busy. It was a beautiful day so we could not blame people for wanting to be out and about. I had so much fun driving around with him and the entire weekend I couldn’t help but think of TS’s lyrics “our secret moments in a crowded room”. No one even knows what I am talking about, and maybe it is all in my head. It is hard to tell if he feels the same way. However, other people could tell and feel it too so maybe I am not delusional.

Anyhoo, after the failed beach attempt, we headed back for naps and reset for evening plans which included dinner and painting session. The Reno wildfires caused a power outage for hours so we ended up painting in the dark, it feels like such a special memory now.

Day 74

I woke up feeling sad because most of the group was leaving tonight. When we arose, my brother with the kids had already left, her family had already left, and so we were left with a handful of people around. We still had fun though! We all jumped into the lake, watched a movie, and then played cards. He also left tonight, but my sister in law claimed he stuck around longer just to hang out with me for longer. I don’t know when I will see him again, but I need to get home and at least partially sort my life out a little.

Still no update on my situation, I am getting antsy.

Day 75

My brother, sister in law and I went off to do a wedding photo shoot around the lake. We rented bikes and took some photos, then we ran some errands and ended with a hike to their favorite spot at Tahoe. We were wildly unprepared food-wise and ended up hangry, but this caused us to find the best pizza in Tahoe. We are hitting the road tomorrow for what I like to call Vacation Pt. 2.

Day 76

The power was out again at Tahoe, so we were unable to leave with coffee from our new favorite place. We did get to pack up and hit the road though (coffee-less). First stop was Nevada, we went to Costco for dinner and experienced a beautiful sunset – thanks to the wildfires.

Day 77

Hit the road bright and early to get to Craters of the Moon NMP. It was so incredible! It feels so out of place to be honest, but it was a very worthwhile spot. I would love to go back and do the caves, but we could not since my parents and I had been in another cave already and didn’t have different shoes or clothes. From there, we continued heading towards Montana to have a very unique experience. We arrived to our lodge and checked in. Walked up to the room and set our stuff down when all of a sudden a bat flew out from who knows where. We were in awe and also super scared, my sil, mom and I made our way out of the room while my brother and dad tried ushering the bat outside using blankets and sheets. Eventually it flew out and we all took a breath. What a night.

Day 78

Yellowstone and Grant Tetons! Wow! What a full packed day of hiking, geyser watching, and bisons.

Day 79

Woke up at the “ass crack of dawn” to try to catch some wildlife in the wild. My mom and I actually caught the view of a wolf standing still near the road. It felt so surreal, but I was sad other people didn’t catch it. We turned around to try to find it again but it was long gone. Later we grabbed coffee from the “Sexy Goat Coffee” truck and continued onwards towards South Dakota, but going first through Beartooth Pass. The US is so incredibly beautiful. We made it to Mt. Rushmore just after the lighting ceremony. It felt weird being there especially with all the controversy and division in the country happening right now.

Day 80

80 days out of work!!!

We spent this beautiful, hot morning at Badlands NP and did a couple of short hikes and stopped at the viewpoints. Such breathtaking landscape and more wildlife. We saw many prairie dogs, but also found a coyote walking around. He seemed hot and hungry.

Day 81

The last day of vacation was entirely filled with driving home. We arrived at 8am in the morning after driving all through the night. I knew it would be weird to get home and not see my dog there, but it was the most unsettling feeling I have ever felt. I have had so much guilt leaving my other dog home alone (with a sitter, of course) during this hard transition. I can’t even imagine what he was feeling after losing his friend and then me taking off for two weeks. It was such a relief to see him and take care of him. I showed him so much love right away. Home at last.

Thank you for your message. I am currently out of office with no set return date. I will get back to you when the time is right.

O amor é cego. Apenas 4 horas e 23 minutos antes do meu pai morrer é que eu caí em mim e percebi que o estava a perder.

Tenho pensado cada vez mais nesse facto, pela primeira vez refleti sobre o significado da expressão “o amor é cego”. Há pelo menos 48h horas o estado dele tinha-se deteriorado significativamente. Contudo há 56 horas apenas um parâmetro analítico estava fora dos valores de referência sem que o estado mental dele se alterasse, sem que o corpo dele se alterasse, sem que outros parâmetros se alterassem. Olhando para trás gostava de ter dado mais atenção a esse único parâmetro, em vez de aceitar que todo o quadro pós cirúrgico dele justificava esse resultado, afinal ele não tinha febre, não tinha leucocitose nem outra alteração. Reconheço que mesmo que tivesse dado mais atenção a esse parâmetro não mudaria o desfecho do meu pai, no máximo, pensaria que estava, de alguma forma, a apaziguar a minha consciência, sabendo que não tinha deixado escapar nada.

Nas 48h anteriores à morte dele notei outra coisa: tive que ir esvaziar o urinol apenas uma vez. Isso causou-me estranheza mas optei por lhe pedir apenas que bebesse mais água. Eu penso que nesse dia ele entrou em falência renal. Não tenho provas, não tenho autópsia, apenas estes pequenos fragmentos dos últimos momentos que vão surgindo com maior precisão.

Até à madrugada da sua morte eu acreditei piamente que o quadro dele seria tratado. Ele ficaria limitado, ficaria dependente, isso consegui prever e aceitei, abracei o tema com a certeza que estava disposta a ajudá-lo e cuidar dele com todas as minhas forças, mas eu não consegui ver mais além, não consegui ver que estávamos a chegar ao final desta estrada.

O amor é cego. Aprendi que o amor precisa ser cego para nos fazer lutar com todas as nossas forças por quem amamos, precisamos dessa cegueira para acreditar com toda alma que conseguimos ir mais além e salvar aqueles que nos são preciosos mesmo quando é humanamente impossível.