Her

A thought transfixed me: for the first time in my life I saw the truth as it is set into song by so many poets, proclaimed as the final wisdom by so many thinkers. The truth —that love is the ultimate and the highest goal to which man can aspire. Then I grasped the meaning of the greatest secret that human poetry and human thought and belief have to impart: The salvation of man is through love and in love. I understood how a man who has nothing left in this world still may know bliss, be it only for a brief moment, in  contemplation . In a position of utter desolation, when man cannot express himself in positive action, when his only achievement may consist in enduring his sufferings in the right way—an honorable way— in such a position man can, through loving contemplation of the image he carries of her, achieve fulfillment. For the first time in my life I was able to understand the meaning of the words, "The angels are lost in perpetual contemplation of an infinite glory". My mind still clung to her image. A thought crossed my mind: I didn't even know if she still bothered I knew only one thing—which I have learned well by now: Love goes very far beyond the physical person. It finds its deepest meaning in his spiritual being, his inner self. Whether or not he is actually present, whether or not he is still alive at all, ceases somehow to be of importance. There was no need for me to know; nothing could touch the strength of my love, my thoughts, and the image of my dearest. Had I known then that she now had someone else,better company, I think that I would still have given myself, undisturbed by that knowledge, to the contemplation of her image, and that my mental conversation with her would have been just as vivid and just as satisfying. " love is as strong as death." This intensification of inner life helped me find a refuge from the emptiness, desolation and spiritual poverty, by letting me escape into the past. When given free rein, my imagination played with past events, often not important ones, but minor happenings and trifling things. My nostalgic memory glorified them and they assumed a strange character. Their world and their existence seemed very distant and the spirit reached out for them longingly: In my mind I took bus rides, unlocked the front door of my apartment to let her in, answered her calls. thoughts often centered on such details, and these memories are all that's left.

Frankl - Me