Death, Love, Duty and Endurance

Good heavens: another day gone by. I think I've done everything I need to, getting ready for my father and mother's funeral service. It's been some time since she died, but I think my father wanted their services done together.

Whatever I've learned about the nuts and bolts of love, the bulk of it I learned from him. His love for my mother was intense and durable. Although there was, I'm sure, a great deal of emotion involved, it's what he did as the decades wore on that impressed me.

Over a quarter-century ago now, a young woman - her name was Eve - asked me how I would define love. I replied, describing the commitment, the will to endure, the sense of duty, the ongoing acts of service. When I wound down, she observed that what I said sounded "cold."

I see her point.

And, love that endures is, in a sense, cold; sometimes devoid of that rushing warmth that contemporary culture often calls "love" - regardless of the degree of connection or commitment involved.

By my definitions, love is cold and hard: cold and strong as steel, hard, enduring - and beautiful - as diamond.