The Synonym of Love
We didn’t know what to call it so we called it love- Muthoni Mathenge
In the year of our Lord 2009, I met the future mother of my children. At the time I didn’t know if she wanted to be or if I wanted her to be. I knew nothing if I am being honest, other than she was not as tall as the other girl I liked and she was quiet. Her introversion drew me to her like a moth to fire. I wanted to know what made her tick, what pushed her to the edge. What the edge looked like and if she would let me join her there. I wanted to know her name. And why she didn’t care enough to say it to me before I asked.
Therefore, I did what every 15-year-old boy in my position would do, I put my number in her phone and told her to call me. She did, eventually, and when that happened, I was convinced, nay, ready to bet my life on it, that this was the girl for me. I spent the rest of my high school life telling everyone who cared to listen that I met a girl. We were in love. And she was my girlfriend. It is prudent to mention that only one thing is true in that whole statement and her being my girlfriend was not it. At least, not for her. But ignorance is bliss and so continued a blissful high school experience.
Then came to university. By this time, she had caught up and the girl I had spent years raving about was mine. Until she wasn’t. She used words like growth and change and different. I didn’t understand what all those words meant. Or why she said these things to me. I did not want change or to grow or to be different. I wanted her and I wanted her to want me. But she didn’t and if I had learned anything in the last 4 years is that once she made up her mind, there was no going back.
I grieved, well as much as you can grieve as a 19 y/o man. I played FIFA, hangout cool kids and met my teacher. Not my actual teacher, but the woman who taught me about life and how to work a woman’s body. She was 26 and I was eager to learn and please. Our entanglement continued until she wanted more. But I did not have more to give. I was 19 and still waiting for people to grow and change and be different.
Then her birthday came along and I called her because I never forgot a birthday. She was in Eldoret and I was in Nairobi but that distance felt like nothing. Over the phone she was mine and I was hers. At the same time, I met another girl. The love of my life this one. She made things better that I didn’t know could be better. She organized my vision and goals. She made me whole. But she still wasn’t her. She wasn’t the girl who knew me more than I knew myself. We didn’t have the same history I did with her.
She looked so scared thatI wanted to wrap her up in all the love that I have held for her.
That’s why when she called me because her life was falling apart, I showed up. I don’t remember where I was or who I was with but I remember thinking she needs me and I needed to be there. I later found out that her dad had cancer. That he was in chemo. That she was watching him die. She looked so scared and I wanted to wrap her in all the love that I have held for her. I wanted to take her pain away and make it better. But life does not work like that so I did the only thing I could, I showed up. Every time she called, I dropped whatever I was doing and showed up. It was all I could do and I did everything I could.
As I shared in the burden of her pain and subsequent loss, I suffered a personal loss. The love of my life was leaving me to focus on herself. To grow and to change and be different. It gutted me. I didn’t understand it. I wanted her to love me the way I loved her. But she left anyway and so I loved the future mother of my children because where else could I take this love.
I loved her even though grief had changed her. I loved her even as I watched her drink herself open. I loved her as she bled her heart dry for the world to see how much pain she was in. I willed her in my mind to keep some of it inside, some of herself inside. But she said to me that it is not my job to tell her how to grieve. I did what I could. I felt sorry for her. I wished I could do more but we have to learn how to grow and change and be different people.
She changed and grew and became such a different person. I barely recognized her. When we spoke, she wasn’t the woman who would become the mother of my children. But she still needed me to be there with her so I stayed. I brought her out of herself and closer to me as often as I could. Until I could not.
In the year of our Lord 2018, she asked me if we could be official. I said no. She all but deleted me from her life. But she didn’t get it. She was not herself; she had not been for a long time. I knew she wasn’t asking me to see where this goes. She was asking me for forever. Forever was too much for me then. I hadn’t healed from the love of my life leaving. I couldn’t risk losing the future mother of my kids as well. I panicked, choosing us over her. Because that was the bigger picture, we mattered a lot more than what she wanted at that time.
We don’t talk anymore. Not really. Not like we used to. She isn’t mine to have or to own anymore. I have learned that the hard way. It drives me mad with jealousy to imagine sometimes that she could be with another. But it hasn’t made me stop loving her. How could I? She is not the kind of person you stop loving because you don’t know how to stop.
11years after we met, I know I will love her forever. Whether it will be loudly, in front of the gathering of those around us. Or quietly, like a secret that you keep in the pocket close to your heart. Still, I will love her.
As narrated to me by Daniel
