The shadow of the past?

It’s common that in the preliminary stages of a potential romance, there’s a conversation about previous relationships. It’s revealing to notice the extent to which this dwells on the hurts and disappointments from those we have loved and those who have loved us (which in good circumstances coincide) – and whether we blame ourselves or the other. I don’t count Jen as just another person in my history, for she was an integral part of my life, the ground beneath my feet. Jen’s death ripped the heart out of our home, and as much as we go on without her, the tattered hole remains. Anyone who gets involved with me would have to take on the history of those sixteen years. Until now it seemed unlikely to me that anyone would consider that option. Part of the shift in perspective was to see that Jen is my family, and that there’s no way to understand me without her.

That understanding accords with the realization of the obvious truth that a person’s family of origin has immense influence upon their vision of relationships and indeed their whole personality. At age twenty I tended to regard a person’s family as merely a detail, a situation that would soon be left behind. Now I see over and over how much the experiences of those early years, both bad and good, affect adult life. Now I notice how many married people struggle with the influence or even interference of their spouse’s family. Even or perhaps especially with the most supportive families, it’s necessary to separate and redraw the boundaries. I was much more fortunate that I initially realised with Jen’s family, both in their degree of support, and in their recognition of our independence of choice.

Jen’s importance to me as family could be both easier and harder for someone else to negotiate because she is dead, and the imperfections of our relationship and of Jen herself are becoming harder to recall. The title of this blog is an allusion to the second chapter of Tolkien’s ‘Lord of the Rings’, with Gandalf’s explanation of the evil consequences of the long history of the One Ring. I’ve observed (even for Jen and I) how old relationships can cast long shadows into the present, both by their damage to our self-esteem, and by the implicit comparison that can feed a sense of inadequacy. In darker moments I am reminded of a quote from Jorge Luis Borges: ‘Only those we love can truly hurt us’. That can apply equally to the dysfunction of families, the failures of friendship or the disappointments of romance.

Yet there is light just as much as there is shadow. Remembering Jen, I want to say in reply to Borges that we can only be transformed by those who truly love us. That too applies to friendship, family, romance, and indeed to the ultimate love of God. That is the heart of the miracle, and one of the few things in life that gives me hope for the future.