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| Pages of my book, "Dilemas Femininos" (Luisinha is one of the characters) |
The
other day thoughts went out to Love. I am certainly a different person and my
ideas may sound strange for most people. I accept my oddities. But I also
reject that we all have to feel in the same way.
Time shapes
our thoughts, theories, feelings, the way we live them and the way we act.
Throughout my life, mostly, each of these tilted from side to side and the contradictions
were more than many. I am aware that I fed an aura of mystery around me and I created
a gap between me and all those who lived around me. But is that enough to make
me a person devoid of feelings? Was someone more harmed than I with this
stance? Who, beside myself, has the right to comment on my particular way of
love? Are there more valid ways of loving than others?
I loved
so much. I loved all the projects I got involved with. And always with high
intensity ... as if they were unique and the last. I loved those who were part
of my life even though they might not have been aware ... I loved while looking
ahead to the future ... I loved, I love and I will continue to love.
I loved
my job (more than the enviable
career that I built). My career was the result of the effort and dedication
that I put in. It was never a goal in itself. From the start this was the thing
that distinguished me from the others. My goals always related with performing well
the tasks; exceed in the results, wanting to do more and better ... Honestly,
without trampling or hitting anyone and not going into power struggles...
I loved
my family. My parents who gave me
their best. I always loved them, even when I got angry with their life choices that
were so distant from what I wanted and dreamed for us. I loved them in their
ignorance, but especially in their love. I loved my aunt. I loved her (also)
weird way of loving me, her concern with my education and health, her excessive
austerity. It took me many years to realize that this was her only way of
loving me ... I loved Antonio: the man I imagined and deluded and deceive
myself. I specially loved the dream of what we could have built. And in the
downfall, I refused to let me fly again. I loved my son, so soon taken away
from me. I loved him such that, for him, I decided to rebuild myself from the
wreckage left by his absence. In my shoes, some would have given up, but in the
despair of loss, I wanted to perpetuate him in my life keep on fighting and giving
my heart and soul to my daily causes ... so he could be proud of me, from where
he expects me...
I loved
most of the people I worked with. I
loved them in the distance I put between us. I loved them in the respect I felt
about them and with which I always treated them. Particularly I loved the
simplest and most vulnerable people, those whom I helped without them knowing
it. I truly loved them because I never wanted or waited recognition.
I loved
in a weird way, I know. I loved for me, intense and internally. I loved without
expecting any benefit, without exposing myself or being visible. I loved most
when I suffered. At every jolt, I moved on, throwing myself to a new love. With
the fury and the iron will of those suffering ... until it appeases me. Loving
was my answer to the mishaps of life!
I still
love! Today, tomorrow and all the other days that follow! At the Foundation, in
the causes I advocate, in the small efforts I undertake. I love by personal
delivery. This is my way of love ... what I developed to face all that I lived
and that is my personal life story. May not be the best, but it's mine and it's
true.
Luisinha
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