I Am Love


A group of nuns stood off to the side, worn out from whatever trials their pilgrimage here had entailed, eyes wide with wonder and awe. Clearly overcome with emotion, one started to sing and then several others followed. Soon, the entire interior space of Saint Peter’s Basilica was swallowed up by the sound of angelic voices lifted in hopeful praise, an offering of sorts…

My heart ached from the beauty and sadness of it all.

God, where are you?

Notre Dame in Paris. Rainy day. Almost no one was there. I was emotional anyway. It was my last day in France and here I was standing in the middle of one of the world’s greatest icons, a place I never thought I would ever visit. As I was putting my camera away to leave, the pipe organ started to play. The richest, most beautiful sounds poured forth and seemed to shake the very foundation my soul…

My heart ached from the beauty and sadness of it all as I sat down and closed my eyes, letting it all wash over and through me.

God, where are you?

I was the only person left in the room in the ICU. The nurses were busy tending to other patients. The ventilator had been removed. The IV medications were all turned off. There was no family. I held her cold, wrinkled hand for the next two hours until she finally passed away silently into the night. I cracked open the window to let her spirit leave, feeling the cool breeze wash over my face…

My heart ached with the beauty and sadness of her.

God, where are you?

I watched his face as he made love to me in the floor. There was pain there in his eyes. Pain and love and longing and grief and lust. Gripping hands so tightly, afraid the other might slip away and expose our nakedness. A whispered name. Sweat dropped off of his bare chest and onto mine just before ecstasy took over…

My heart ached with the beauty and sadness of that moment, lying there in his arms, feeling loved, knowing that he would not be here tomorrow or ever again.

God, where are you?!?!?

And so I have found that God lives in music. God lives in life and death and in love itself.

My heart aches.


124 thoughts on “I Am Love

  1. Well said. Painful and poignant!

    There is a sadness there that reminds us of lost loves, isn’t there? I think that is just part of being human, when confronted by such great love, we immediately fear losing it. God however is steadfast and never leaves us. There is beauty to be found even in death and loss and grief and suffering.

    Liked by 4 people

  2. This post was lovely, and amazing, and profound. Those moments of connection, those moments when something ‘more’ overtakes us, no matter what we choose to call that force or how we rationalize the occurrence, resonate a moment of belonging to me that can’t be explained. I am grateful for those moments even if my choices and beliefs do not find religious meaning…I am still linked in a spiritual way.

    Liked by 2 people

  3. I’ve asked this question myself, and received no clear-cut answer. That’s why I’m an atheist. But I do believe there is something that lives in music, life, death, and love. I just choose not to call it God.

    Liked by 2 people

  4. We are entered into the realm of the spiritual by the Music of the Spheres. John Milton had it right with his Platonic cosmology in Paradise Lost. We hear the music when all is well; we hear discord, disharmony when we are in Chaos. Your piece moved me. You know that I was in the spiritual life for a number of years. Please take a moment to trip back to my blog about music and the sacred words. That would make my heart soar like an eagle: http://memoriesofatime.com/2013/11/08/hows-your-latin-or-sleeping-with-the-enemy/ Peace. Oh, I do get the mythology of the god Eros in your writing/ story.

    Liked by 2 people

  5. Your post has an answer to a question many people ask. God was there all the time that you ‘held her cold, wrinkled hand for the next two hours until she finally passed away silently into the night.’
    My story of the holocaust box never gave any answer, just the despair and anger.

    Liked by 1 person

  6. Wow. I think God was there too. Maybe feeling sadness, but pleased with the beauty of the music and you holding her hand and the love. When they turned off the machines to let my mom go, Dad, as strong as he was, couldn’t bear to stay in the room. He went to the chapel instead. I was torn about whether to go with Dad or stay with Mom. She already looked gone to me. I was worried about Dad. He loved her so much. So I went with Dad to wait with him in the chapel. Sometimes I wish I would have stayed with Mom and held her, and trusted Dad would be okay. I’m grateful for the nurse who stayed with my mother. I’m grateful for you staying with the woman in the ICU and holding her hand. God loves you very much.

    Liked by 1 person

  7. Good read. I now have to listen to Bach’s “Toccata and Fugue”.

    Because of Murakami I discovered Francis Poulenc. Now it is time for Bach. Thank you and may I suggest Roel Dieltiens rendition of Bach’s “Cello Suites”?

    You should write a novel. I would read it…

    Liked by 1 person

  8. So beautiful, Victo.

    Does it not make you…disappointed that today parents are raising children without speaking to them of God? One of my sons commented in his school journal, after attending parochial schools, transferring for a year to a non-parochial, and then returning the next year to one with a weekly chapel:

    That he felt simply the reminder to think about God, and things outside themselves, resulted in a better-behaved school body.

    Liked by 1 person

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