Candy Portaluppi

An Empath in Love

The pillow talk is what she missed most. Quiet nights, two people, where words were spoken and shared. How could she sleep at night without that? While lying in bed alone one night, she reached over, picked up a little black notebook, and began to write as if she was talking to him. Pages passed, days passed, books passed. At the end of the summer, then I'll she felt she had said all she needed to say, and the little black book had turned into three. She moved into a new home, mended from most of the wounds, she had begun to open her heart. She was an unusual person full of life and optimism. She believed there was kindness in everyone she met, even though all of the abuse her whole life should have told her otherwise. An empath she was. She could walk into a room and change the flow of the energy. People seem drawn to her, some for friendship, some for entertainment, some for healing, and some for love. A romantic at heart, it was hard for her to keep her heart closed for very long. While chatting online, late one night, he unexpectedly took hold of her heart. She thought she had finally found the one, her duel flame, her soulmate. She was smiling again, constantly, sparkle back in her blue eyes, a bounce in her step, her head held up high. She was in love. A breath of sweet fragrant air of spring had ended her long frozen winter. An empath in love is magical to watch, but they are human and sometimes make mistakes by being too open with too much. She shared too much too soon one night, and he pulled away from her. She didn’t mean to injure. Heartbroken again, she fell into her tears. That’s when he found her. He was everything she never knew. She always thought she wanted. He had more strength in every way than she had. He won her over first by challenging her mind, then her body, and then her heart, but he did have a weakness that she couldn’t ignore. He, too, had known a lifetime of abuse and neglect that left him with the need always to be the biggest in the room, the winner of every debate, even when there was nothing to debate about. The wounds from her last toxic relationship caused her only to see these debates as arguments. They frightened her, and she feared a life again, walking on eggshells rather than melting with what she hoped was going to be the love of her life. After a simple question of how better to please him turned into a volatile debate which left her hands shaking, she left in the middle of the night frightened and exhausted. Too exhausted to drive, she stopped for the night to rest. After a nice shower, she crawled into bed with a box of tissues and cried herself to sleep while looking at the picture of the one that broke her heart again. Not sure of herself, confused, was she crying over the broken heart's cure, or was she still crying over the broken heart? She ached for her sadness. She ached for the cures of sadness. She ached enough for everyone. It was time to start to write again. She picked up a pen and another little black book and began to retell the story after coming across an ad for a contest, a writing contest, a storyteller. She was a great storyteller because life had given her many stories, most of which were tragedies. The prize would be $20,000. She wanted to win. There was so much good she could do with it, whether going back to school, helping lots of people, replacing her car with a more dependable one, or starting up her own business. The landscaper, earthy to the core, could do a lot of good with this money. She actually could do a bit of all of it, and that’s exactly what she did. A month later, when they announced she had won the 20k prize, she knew how to stretch it to help the most people. She and the cure became lifetime friends, and they both grew from the experience. She was even his best man at his wedding as a joke, suit and all. They both had a mischievous sense of humor that liked to entertain people. His wife was perfect for him in every way. He had met her while volunteering in the community bonsai garden. He had been married before but didn’t have children of his own and secretly feared he never would. He had so much love to give as he, too, was an empath. On their first anniversary, he found out he was going to be a dad. He was so happy, and she was happy for him. Her broken heart loves her, and she began texting once again after she explained and gave a heartfelt apology. A few months after the contest on her spring break, in her newer used car, she drove across the country to meet the love of her life she thought she had lost forever. This was their first in-person encounter. They haven’t parted since, and both now follow the spring planting gardens to help feed those without, building with them shelters through the nonprofit they started, as well as setting an example of what love truly looks like to anyone that met them. An empath in love is a wonderful thing to witness and truly inspiring to be around. It’s hopeful, childlike optimism that leaves everyone around believing anything is possible, and it never too late. Sometimes the heart has to be broken to be mended and be filled with the right kind of love. A love that few still believe exists. I’m thankful I was there. I’m thankful I was she. I’m thankful.