What is Love?

I can’t believe I just called a blog post that. What a clichéd title. But this was the question that greeted me at bedtime tonight. Well, it was one of a few, as I tucked my son into bed.

HIM: When’s the baby coming?

ME: Soon, I’m sure.

HIM: I thought she was coming today?

ME: She was due today. But babies don’t always make it on time.

HIM: Isn’t she going to be getting too big for Chloe’s tummy soon?

ME: Well, she would if she stayed there forever!

HIM: So why don’t you just go to the hospital and ask them to take her out?

ME: The baby has to let us know when she’s ready.

HIM: How does she do that?

ME: Well…

HIM: Will she knock on Chloe’s tummy?

ME: Yes!

HIM: Hmmm. Ok. Well, I hope she hurries up.

ME: Me too. Ready for lights out?

HIM: Yes.

I go to turn the light out.

HIM: Wait… one more thing.

ME: Ok…

HIM: What’s love?

ME: What do you mean?

HIM: What is love?

ME: Well… it’s that feeling you get when you really, really care a lot about someone. And there’s different kinds of love. Like there’s the way that you love your son or your daughter, the way you love your friends and the way you love your girlfriend of boyfriend.

HIM: I know that, Dad. I am 7, you know.

ME: Ok…. Silly me. Then what are you asking me?

HIM: What is it made of?

ME: Wow. Ummm. Want to know the truth?

HIM: Yep

ME: Think you can handle it?

HIM: Yep

ME: I don’t know what it’s made of.

HIM: You don’t?

ME: Nobody does, really. We just know how it feels. We never get to actually see it or touch it or see what it’s made of.

HIM: Wow. Never?

ME: No. Never.

HIM: So when you love a girlfriend is it made of a different sort of love than when you love your friends?

ME: Well, we never know what any kind of love is made out of…. We just know how it feels. And it feels different, yes.

HIM: Do you love me?

ME:  More than anything in the whole wide world.

HIM: I know that (laughs).

ME: Do you love me?

HIM: Yes I love you more than tennis.

ME: Wow! That’s huuuuge.

HIM: Yep.

ME: I don’t know what the love I have for you is made of. But I know how it feels…

HIM: How? (cheeky smile… he knows compliments are heading is way)

ME: Well, it feels happy. It feels like you’re always with me even when you’re at school. And I know for sure I love you because I’d do anything to protect you and I’d do anything to make you smile.

HIM: Can I have an iPhone?

ME: I wouldn’t do that to make you smile.

HIM: Aww.

ME: Nice try, though.

HIM: Do you know how I know I love you?

ME: How?

HIM: Because the saddest thing in the whole world would be if you weren’t here anymore.

ME: Don’t think about sad things, kiddo.

HIM: I know and I’m happy too. But I just wanted to tell you how I know.

ME: I know. And it would be the saddest thing for me too. But I told you. You’re stuck with me. I’m going to follow you around even when you’ve got girlfriends… and then I’m going to come to university with you and I’m gonna be so totally uncool… and I’m going to tell all your girlfriends about…

HIM: Dad?

ME: Yeh?

HIM: You’re crazy….

And perhaps that is the most apt explanation of love I’ve ever heard… particularly from one so young – knowing that something is so special to you that life without them would be the most terrible thing you could imagine in your personal life.

And I’m sure we all know that feeling or have known that feeling once in our lives…. 

I Spy

For all the women I've loved and lost... not just romantically, but the friends and family too. For those whose lives simply took another direction and for those too whose lives are no longer lived in this world.

I spy, through the tears that I’ve cried,

Something beginning with ‘end.’

Like goodbyes to a friend

I just wish I’d held tight

And the sunset that marks

The start of the night

And the end of the day

And the end of the way

That we were.

I miss her.

And I spy, through the darkest of nights

A glimmer of hope that it might be alright.

That the pain will diminish,

That nothing is finished

And perhaps,

That it’s all just begun.

No Sign

No sign of our baby girl yet.

It looks as though she may be fashionably late.

Well, it would never do for a Princess to turn up right on time now, would it?

Random Song....

A beautiful version of a beautiful song.

2 Days

 She’s due in 2 days. Just 2 days. 48 hours. And I’ve run through a really long list of things I need (and probably some I don’t) fifteen time overs the last week to check, double check and check again that we definitely have everything.

‘Relax,’ my sister keeps telling me. ‘You’ll buy all that stuff and realise you don’t use half of it anyway! It will be fine.’

What is perhaps more impressive is how calm Chloe is.

‘She’ll probably be late,’ she keeps telling… ‘Just like her Daddy.’

I can’t concentrate at work and I think that by the seventh time I had called Chloe at home to make sure there are ‘no signs’ yet, she was getting bored of the sound of my voice.

We agreed that I should not take any time off until the baby is actually born… mostly so that I can enjoy 2 weeks with my new beautiful little girl rather than a week before and only getting a week after. But now I am starting to think there’s little point in me being in the office anyway as I am getting so little done.

I wonder if she’ll have hair. And how much of it. And how tiny her fingers and toes will be and whether she will look like Chloe or me…. And whether she will have features that remind me of my Mother or my sister and whether she will suit any of the names we’ve been debating over for the last few weeks.

But honestly, I don’t care whether she has hair or not… or how loud she cries in the night or how many times we’re woken up in the middle of the night over the next however many years. I just want her here and healthy.

My little Princess, Daddy and your big bro can’t wait to meet you xx

Brinda Allen - On First Life, Second Life and Death

I’m incredibly saddened to hear of the death of Brinda Allen – second life resident, fountain of all knowledge and a simply wonderful lady.

She left many an insightful comment both here and on Pixel Scoop.

Brinda Allen on Life (First and Second) and Death

At 68 I’m a little older than most… I retired from a rather successful career nearly two years after I came to secondlife. Today I rarely mention Secondlife to anyone… it’s much too difficult to explain.
Kinda like sex…you can read about it all day long and not understand what its about. =^..^=  http://pixelscoop.net/2010/09/second-life-article/

“I come to Secondlife to communicate with people, no other possible venue would allow me the instant intimate connection available here with incredible people from all over the world.” http://pixelscoop.net/2010/10/why-are-you-in-sl-residents-speak/

The magic is... She's your little girl =^..^=
She will adore you until she's about 13.
She will hate you until she's about 17.
She will be the one that you will always be able to count on as long as you live. http://realworldranting.blogspot.com/2011/04/little-girl.html

"Inteligence demands intelligence..
Respect demands respect...
And some folks you just have to leave where you found them 'cause you can't carry everyone with you."  http://realworldranting.blogspot.com/2011/03/guardian-mum.html

 Josue... I'm saddened by the pain of your perceived loss. I say perceived because your friend isn't really gone. She had done all she was supposed to do in this life.
Ram Dass had said to his mother as she lay dying that It's like watching a friend in a burning house...the house will be consumed but we will go on forever. http://realworldranting.blogspot.com/2010/11/loss.html

What an incredibly wise soul.

Wherever the next place may be, Brinda, may you rest there in Peace.

Have Faith in Love

I know you and I see you
When you think that others don’t.

I think of you and get you
When you think that others won’t.

Do not hide your heart, my love,
Be not afraid to show it.

Real love, I swear, it does exist.
And we two, yes we know it.

A Quick Thought on Riots...

I’ve been shocked and saddened by the mass rioting in the UK... obviously in particular here in Manchester. As I left the office at 6:30pm yesterday I was absolutely appalled to see children and teenagers breaking into shops and looting.

This is NOT a political riot. It’s an excuse for delinquent and uncontrolled youths (for the most part) to steal and terrorise.

Perhaps the most concerning thing for me was how young some of these kids were. Some looked only a couple of years older than my 7 year old son. Why were they not at home, safe and having dinner with their families?

I completely disagree with the sentiment that ‘Britain is broken.’ This was a minority of thugs. The community clear ups that followed today were proof of that. I also completely disagree with ‘sympathisers’ who blame these yobs’ behaviour on the fact they are socially excluded and without opportunities.
Opportunity does not just turn up on your doorstep with a bouquet of flowers, you know. You have to work for it. And you can start by going to school, learning a little respect and getting a decent education. How dare they blame society or the Government for their own pathetic lack of morals?

Manchester will not be broken by delinquent little trouble causers.

Tanya Davis - Subtlety

I first came across Tanya Davis when someone shared a spoken word piece on Youtube called 'How to be Alone.' Today, I've been browsing some of her other work on Youtube.

What a talented lady.

She's Never Really Gone

Son,

She’s never really gone. She’s the waking thought that dances gracefully across your mind each morning. She’s the sweetest dreams that bless your sleep. She’s in the words you speak, the faces you make, the things that you do and in everything you will become.

She’s never really gone, son. She’s just a little out of reach. But if you close your eyes and open your heart, you’ll feel here there. You’ll feel her hand on your shoulder, nudging you gently forwards and encouraging, ‘Go on…. Don’t look back.’

You’ll never forget her, son, because she’s never really gone. She’s in you. She’s in your smile, your nose, your chin… she’s in the way you scrunch up your forehead when you’re trying to think of a comeback smart enough that you will leave me sufficiently tongue tied to get your own way.

She’s in the way you care about everyone and everything, both real and fictional. She’s in the way that you thought it absolutely terrible that Dobby wasn’t given a special mention in the closing scenes of the final Harry Potter film. She’s in the way that you gave up one of your favourite soft toys because Charlie the cockerspaniel had become attached to it: ‘He’s only a baby. He doesn’t understand if we take it away. I’m a big boy now so I don’t need teddies.’ She’s in the way you want to bring home every single homeless person we pass in the street, ‘just for a bit of dinner.’

She’s never really gone, son. Because part of her is you.

And you’ll never, ever, ever, ever have to question how much she loved you,

I’m so proud of you,

Love Dad xx

Perfectly Imperfect

Some of my faults

-       I look but I don’t always see

-       I listen but don’t always hear

-       I’m never wrong, especially when I really am

-       I cannot back down

-       I struggle to let people in

-       I struggle to let go of the past

-       I hold grudges

-       I’m arrogant

-       I am a workaholic

Nobody is perfect. But I spent a good many years trying to be and punishing myself for not being and then projecting an image of myself that wasn’t even real just so that maybe some people might think I was perfect.

But perfection does not exist. But I’m glad it doesn’t!

In fact, compatibility isn’t just about finding good things that you like in people. It’s about finding flaws that complement your own and that give people real character and personality.

I’m not a perfect Brother, I was never a perfect son, I’m not a perfect husband, I’m not a perfect friend and I am not a perfect Father.

But I love being a husband, father, brother and friend enough that I will always try my utmost to be as close to it as I possibly can be. I loved being a son enough too that whenever I fucked up (believe me, it happened a lot) I would always try and fix it and learn from it. And no matter what mistakes I made and the flaws I had I always, always, always had unquestioned respect for my Mother.

There have been two times in my entire life where, romantically, I have quickly felt: ‘this is it. This is what the poets write about.’ Twice. And in one of those cases, I was lucky enough to make that woman my wife.

But the point is, that5 indescribable magical feeling of love isn’t just down to the person with whom you fall in love. It’s about compatibility between the two of you. It’s about a fit that creates this little spark that just sets your being on fire. And that’s not just down to their positive attributes. It’s about their characteristics, both good and bad, fit with yours… like bits of a jigsaw. If someone can fill your flaws with an attribute that fits and vice versa, then you get this sense of completion. Like everything is right. This is right. This is what I have waited for and longed for and wanted.

Twice. I’ve felt it twice. And it is an incredible, incredible feeling.

But I have never been in love with anyone who thinks themselves perfect or is close to perfect. Only with people who are perfect for me.

We live in a world obsessed by perfection. Magazines photoshop models in case there’s a blemish. Kids are pushed to do better and better and better.... it's all about the perfect house, the perfect family, the perfect job.

Why?

We’re human. And nothing about humanity is perfect. Welcome to Earth, folks. Flaws are acceptable.

Happy Birthday, Amy xx

If I were given one more moment,
Just to spend with you,
I wouldn’t say a single word,
But here is what I’d do.

I wouldn’t waste that precious time
On words you’ve heard before,
I wouldn’t pass a second saying
Things I know you know.

I’d wrap my arms around you
And I’d pull you in so near,
And hold you tight enough so fate
Would know we need you here.

And hope against all hope, perhaps,
That you could stay a while.
For life is not as sweet, my friend,
Without your stunning smile.

Happy birthday, Amy. 
                          Missed terribly, 
                                   Longed for lovingly,
                                               And only ever a thought away xxxxx