Here’s a question for you: Do you think it’s possible to love too much?

Now, I’m not talking about the kind of love that you see in Lifetime Movies on the tube. You know, where the woman loves the man no matter how toxic the relationship is for her and no matter how big of an unadulterated jerk the guy is. To me, that’s not love.  That’s psychotic, masacistic addiction.

I’m talking about real and true love here. The kind that doesn’t kill you or make you want to kill. Requited or unrequited. 

And I’m not just talking about the love between two human beings either. I talking about all kinds of pure love: love for people, love for a particular person, love for animals, love for your passions in life, be they music, or theatre, or mathematics, or…whatever.

Whaddaya think? Is it possible to love too much?

I ask this because I just got finished co-directing a play I wrote called Blessed Event. (Which, by the way, is now published and performance rights are available for theater groups by contacting JAC Publishing and Promotions at www.jacpub.com. Individual copies of the script can also be purchased from JAC for around $10.00 and at Amazon.com for $10.00 plus $3.00 for shipping.) The play deals with love between committed spouses, sibling love, parental love and love for animals. 

As I co-directed the show, I found myself falling in love with the actors, the crew and my co-director. (Some would say that I didn’t fall in love with them; I just became close friends with them. My question to that is, “Why are people so afraid to use the word love? And what’s the difference between being really close friends with somebody and loving him or her? To me, they are one and the same.)

When the show closed last weekend, there was a heaviness in all of our hearts. I remember walking backstage just as the actors were leaving the stage after the final curtain. They were all a mess. Crying and hugging and wishing it could go on forever…  Four of them came up to me, hugged me, kissed me on the cheek or forehead and tearfully thanked me for allowing them to be “a part of the magic.”

I have to admit, that even though I have been working in theatre for going on thirty years now, I felt the same strong emotions that they were all feeling.  Usually, when a show is over, I feel a sense of relief.  I walk out of the theater with a good feeling in my heart and a wonderful sense of accomplishment.

The relief comes because I get my life back for a while. 

I get to go home and watch DVR’ed episodes of Shameless and Boardwalk Empire and Bluebloods and N.C.I.S. that I missed because of rehearsals or performances.

I get to reintroduce myself to my wonderful wife.

I get to play with my dogs and my grandchildren.

I get to see my kids.

I get to go horseback riding or sailing.

I get to go to my house on Terra Ceia Bay in Florida for a few weeks.

I get to work on my writing again.

 But this show was different. It truly was. There was a chemistry there between all participants (actors, crew, directors, stage manager) that is rare.  We all seemed to bond as a family, and we all loved the script and the characters…and each other.

We all got deeply involved with it, and we all put our whole hearts and souls into it, knowing full well that, sooner or later, it was going to come to an end, and our hearts would be broken.

Same thing happens when you adopt a dog or a cat or a . . . oh, I don’t know…prairie dog. You know when you first get the damned thing that it’s going be living and breathing for…what? Ten years, if you’re lucky?BUT, you go ahead and get it anyway. And then, you pour all of the love that your heart has into Fido or Mittens, or . . . (What’s a good name for a prairie dog?).  And then, one day you wake up, go to the dog/cat/prairie dog bed, and find that the stupid little bastard bought the farm during the night!

OR WORSE!!!!!!!! One day you realize that your beloved pet is old and living in agony. So you have take him to the vet to . . . Dum-da-DUM-dum!!! . . . put him down! There is nothing in this universe that is more gut wrenching or painful than having to do this.  But you love the critter, and it’s your responsibility. So you GIVE HIM THE GREATEST AND MOST UNSELFISH GIFT THAT YOU CAN GIVE YOUR FRIEND- pink juice injected directly into a main artery. (Remember Marley and Me? Didn’t you know what the ending was going to be BEFORE you rented the damned thing? Didn’t you KNOW that it was going to just rip your heart out of your chest and stomp on it? AND YOU WANTED TO WATCH THE FREAKING THING ANYWAY???!!!!! WHAT THE HELL IS THE MATTER WITH YOU?????????)

The last animal I had to “take the final ride” with was my beloved German shepherd, Pal.  She was the sweetest little girl that you ever wanted to meet. But she had a degenerative nerve disease that was slowly paralyzing her, and she got to the point where she could no longer move her hind legs. So, she crossed The Rainbow Bridge at the age of five.

That was over six years ago, and I STILL get emotional about it, even as I sit here writing this!

When we fall in love with another human being, we know we run the risk of being hurt.  We are never more vulnerable than when we love. We are more often hurt by those we love than by those who are our enemies. 

Why? Because when we are in the midst of enemies, we are wary and cautious. When we love, however, we let our guard down. We trust. We open up.  So we are easily blind-sided, and we are sitting ducks with targets on our chests.(Et tu, Brute?)

And yet we continue to love.

Why? Alfred Lord Tennyson wrote, “T’is better to have love and lost /Than never to have loved at all.”

Think so?

There is a scene in my play where the main character, old Charlie Dube, who is dying of lung cancer, says good-bye to his loving daughter for what they both know will be the last time. His daughter then exits. The script then reads as follows:

(CHARLIE reaches into his pocket and pulls out handkerchief.  With his back to the audience, he blows his nose loudly.  Turns to the audience as he is wiping his eyes.)

CHARLIE: Whew! Saying good-bye when you love so much is hard, ain’t it? I mean, my chest feels so heavy right now! I hear that some folks won’t love because it hurts too much when it over.  I say it’s worth it.  (Looks to the bedroom door. Sighs. ) It sure ain’t easy though. 

(BLACKOUT)

***

Mary Ellen and I have a house in Florida that we go to about three times a year. Mary usually leaves a week before me and drives down, because she is retired. I usually fly down about week later.  Do you know that every single time she leaves, it’s like somebody dies. We both hang onto each other and cry like babies. Sometimes I can literally feel the heaviness in my chest. Then my head gets all clogged up from crying, and I’m a mess for about two days afterwards.

So, again I ask you, why do we do it? Love. Is it worth it, as Charlie says? Is Tennyson right? Is all the anguish  that I’m going to go through when Fritzy finally gasps his last breath really worth all the times he licks my face and wags his tail when he sees me coming?

Whaddaya think?