"From every negative comes a positive."

Well, that's what a lot of people tell me at least. If someone would have told me that a year ago, I would have called your bluff to the extremes. Like, our relationship=done. Finito. Git out. So thank you for not telling me that. Thank you for letting me figure it out on my own.

That probably sounds sassy. I tell you the truth in that it is certainly not :)

Oh, you want to know how I figured it out? I am more than happy to tell you.

Two words: fam. ily. And yes, they are two separate words that happen to make a whole word. I shall explain.

When I lost one, I gained many. I lost one love, but others who loved him, kinda sucked me into their little love group. It's the coolest thing. "But who is this group you speak of, Mary?" One word to represent a whole: Bassinson. Remember that first word I mentioned, "fam?" What I mean by "fam" is that my family, or my own little love group, expanded vastly. I had met Max's parents two weeks before he passed and then about four weeks later I was living with them for the summer. Maybe not even four weeks, it may have been less. I joined their family dinners on Sundays, we had a plethora of movie nights, traveled, did music, cried, laughed, the whole shabang. I saw my first Broadway musical with them (Wicked, just so ya know), I discovered more about faith with them, enjoyed some mean cups of coffee (sigh, Perfect Blend and their croissants). I now call them Dad2.0 and Momma Meg. Get the "fam" picture?

Now let's talk about the second word, "ily." Guess what?? I TRICKED YA! It's three words. Take a few moments to think of what those three words are. I bet you got it...

I. Love. You.

I have never heard those three words so much in my life as I have in the past year. Like whoa. I never knew or understood, I guess, just how much of an impact that phrase actually had on a person. Growing up with severe depression made me think that it was something you just said or heard from another being. Boy-o-boy was I wrong, and when I discovered how wrong I was, it was another punch in the gut. It was the moment that I knew Max was gone. I never told him that I loved him and I never heard him say it because he knew that I had, well, bland feelings about the word. That is the one thing I regret in life, but am also grateful for the knowledge it gave me to know that saying "I love you" is the most important thing when you truly mean it. I encourage you all to go tell someone you sincerely love that you love them. If you have been thinking that you might love someone, tell them that you intensely care. Then when you know you do, you make sure to tell them. I mean it.

Broken heart+fam+ily= mended heart.

And that's how life goes...on the mend. Take care and give love.