Cleave

My favourite word in Italian was lasciare. It means to leave someone or something. We don't quite have the word in English, and it is a shame.

I don't love it because of what it means, but because of the way it sounds. It matches perfectly the tearing crush of parting with whatever or whoever it happens to be that you love. I've discovered that people love concepts as much as they love things that are "real". I know people who would be happy to be in love, regardless of who it would be with. I also know people who are enamored of ideas of the world and themselves, and to see these fall apart breaks their heart. I do also know some who go madly for the sum of the parts. He loves her for her eyes and her laugh, for her effortless way with words and the fact she isn't afraid of him. Or, someone who loves the river and the traffic, all the faces that are always different and every place she can find a photograph.

I don't know where I fall. I become attached to ideas. To words. To the way that people think of me. I also fall deeply in love with people, friends and otherwise, for details. So, I am not sure what kind of a lover I am. A little unsure, perhaps, but always loyal.

I've discovered that the essence of love is giving. Loving the place or the person or whatever it is does not detriment you, but nourishes you. Giving them or it little pieces of you doesn't mean sacrifice because you get so much in return. And that is the best thing. Maybe a city can't reciprocate love. But the feeling becomes yours. It is something that is perfect for sharing, but if it can't be, it exists just fine in solitude.

To leave something, lasciare. The pain only comes from the attachment of leaving what you love. The fact of the matter is that holding on is alright. Bringing little pieces of them with you is allowed. The illusion of leaving is separation: phyiscal entities can be separated. Feelings and connections have an infinite reach.

As much as I can intelectualize this, I don't know how qualified I am to live it. I've left things that I have loved dearly. I've seen people come in and out of my life, not knowing how important they are to me until they waned back and forth. Absense makes the heart grow fonder.

Maybe the purpose of the separation is to teach you what you have. Because nothing that is a loss is anything but a gain in disguise.