Love Lost
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I Think About Ondine
I think about Ondine's life.
I think about her death.
I think about her journey.
I think about our grief.
I think about her mother.
I think about her brother Andre.
I think about the friends she left behind.
I think about the people who took advantage of her during her life.
I think about the love of Abuelita in tennis shoes.
I think about her "sister" Anna.
I think about human love.
I think about Ondine's kaleidoscopic beauty.
I think about human passion.
I think about human cruelty.
I think about forgiveness and mercy, about tenderness and care.
I think about emotions unspoken and hearts torn apart, about abrupt separation and cries for help.
I think about chasms of separation, about nightmares and pain.
I think about a Christmas without presents, about a fatherless home.
I think about the estrangement and reconciliation of a mother and daughter, about a sister and brother never reconciled.
I think about a grandfather shoveling coal.
I think about the emptiness of drugs and alcohol and the horrors of detox.
I think about a man made complete by a woman.
I think about how love surprises us all.
I think about worlds apart and about eternity and reunion, about the mysteries of the universe and our meaningful roles in its enormity.
I think about the instant in the vastness of time when I hold Ondine in my arms again.
I think about all of these things, Mamita, and I weep softly for my love, for Ondine.
Only they are tears of joy, for I know we will have each other again.
I think about her death.
I think about her journey.
I think about our grief.
I think about her mother.
I think about her brother Andre.
I think about the friends she left behind.
I think about the people who took advantage of her during her life.
I think about the love of Abuelita in tennis shoes.
I think about her "sister" Anna.
I think about human love.
I think about Ondine's kaleidoscopic beauty.
I think about human passion.
I think about human cruelty.
I think about forgiveness and mercy, about tenderness and care.
I think about emotions unspoken and hearts torn apart, about abrupt separation and cries for help.
I think about chasms of separation, about nightmares and pain.
I think about a Christmas without presents, about a fatherless home.
I think about the estrangement and reconciliation of a mother and daughter, about a sister and brother never reconciled.
I think about a grandfather shoveling coal.
I think about the emptiness of drugs and alcohol and the horrors of detox.
I think about a man made complete by a woman.
I think about how love surprises us all.
I think about worlds apart and about eternity and reunion, about the mysteries of the universe and our meaningful roles in its enormity.
I think about the instant in the vastness of time when I hold Ondine in my arms again.
I think about all of these things, Mamita, and I weep softly for my love, for Ondine.
Only they are tears of joy, for I know we will have each other again.
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I Think About Ondine
I Think About Ondine