She said “I like to think that the love we make never really disappears”. Yes. That.
I answered, “sounding woo woo here.. I don’t think it does”.
She talked about the love as energy sent out into the world and you know how you just know that things are true?
I thought about this a lot, after I had had my last pregnancy and there wouldn’t be any more. When I understood I would never have children I thought about it. When my father died and my ex-husband and I were going through his accumulated stuff and deciding what to keep and what to shed, and when we’d packed our precious cargo of the things I’d keep from my dad, I had thought over and over about that the things I was saving, the things that were so precious to me and what would happen to them when I died. I felt like I was preserving something of my dad and that I couldn’t do it well enough. Some day someone will go through my things too. My paintings and my fathers will get thrown away. My half-finished or miraculously-someday-completed novel and the pictures of everyone I love, my precious books and my short stories and my motorcycle jacket will all be trash someone has to deal with.