Dear Readers,

Special thanks to my friend Renee for one of the key ideas in this post!

All these words I dedicate to my Kallah. May she be safe!

In the previous post, I told you the number of persons with whom I bond makes up a mere handful of souls. I suppose that is not so entirely unusual, but it does certainly acknowledge the veracity of the adage that Quality-not Quantity-is the measure by which friendship becomes love.

While seeking to avoid the truly "schmaltzdik," we see love exists between two persons when both are willing, able and ready to give of themselves to the other. In that case, we have what I'll call "reciprocal love." There is also for lack of a better name "potentially reciprocal love." In this instance, one of the two cannot yet and/or is not ready to give of him/herself to the point of willingly making excruciating sacrifices. That ability will come, let us hope, in time but at present it's not quite there. This particular issue has no necessary linkage to the ability to make proper moral choices.

So what happens? Here, I'll tell it like this ... I will let go of my Kallah because at this point in time, there is an existential void in her experience that can be filled only by her leaving and my letting go. Do I like it? No, of course not, but I demonstrate my love for her by not standing in her way so that she will be able to fill the void she truly believes needs filling. If she cannot, happiness will elude her. And if she is not happy, then neither can I be. In this way, she leaves knowing who loves her. It is not unlike the unconditional nature of the love we have for our children.

Mind you, I am no hero or anyone seeking the martyr of the year award. I would rather she not need to go and i've got the tear-saturated tissues to prove it, but my choices are limited. By not standing in her way, she witnesses indisputable proof of my love for her. Of course, I do not like it but there are such times in life when letting go is the only right choice. Difficult? May you never have to find out! Though it is equally true that anything less would constitute selfish, stifling greed.

This is why the song "Time to Say Goodbye" is so gut wrenchingly painful because it speaks to one of life's several great truths ... that to love another genuinely requires that, as in this instance, I let go. And it isn't that my fingertips were not doing their "darndest" to hold her close! But the fact remains, and this you could not have known. She always beat me in thumb wrestling! Were life not so complex, such problems would not arise, but they do.

So, I am entirely confident my Kallah knows I love her enough to say goodbye. One more point ... I do not believe in changing locks. That would render the new copy of the housekey I'm going to have made and give her rather moot, wouldn't it?

You ask ... what if she does not come back? To which I respond ... I am thankful for the time we did have together rather than bemoaning the time we didn't. I have written elsewhere that I will never say-once upon a time-I HAD a son named Ben. He is and will always remain in my present tense. So it is with my Kallah. Though she has left, she is not in my past but will remain in my present tense. In this way, the door not only remains open but unlocked! Should I forget, well ... you'll have your key, right?

See you at Starbucks.

Alan