THE COST OF LOVE DIVINE

The Cost of LOVE Divine 

“Some loves do not end. That’s Divine Love.”

It has been a year since I last heard his voice.

A year of silence that should have dulled the ache,

yet it has only sharpened it.

If absence were supposed to ease desire,

then mine is proof that some needs are eternal.

Some wants do not fade; they do not temper.

They grow.

I need him more now than ever.

And though I try to parse it, to understand it,

to reason with the impossibility of it,

I cannot.

I cannot diminish a love that has always been whole,

even in the shadow of its loss.

You might not understand this.

I cannot fully understand it myself.

Love, when it is the kind that binds through bone and spirit,

does not negotiate with reason.

It does not yield to time.

It simply remains.

I have known others like me — my ancestors, my blood, my witnesses to love enduring against all odds.

My great-grandmother Nora Beggs, and Grandpa Beggs — he was an alcoholic, a swindler of sorts, chaotic and wild, yet she never left him.

She refused divorce.

She cared for him.

She loved him in the way she could, until his end, and even after.

My grandparents: Grandpa and Grandma Russell, Grandpa and Grandma Webb, Grandpa and Grandma Farrell.

Each of them held a love that defied mortality and circumstance.

Grandma Russell had Crohn’s disease, passing slowly over years, enduring surgeries and suffering, eventually dying in her own home, in a hospital bed she had chosen — a hole in her body, a life slowly leaving.

Through it all, Grandpa Russell never wavered in his devotion.

Yes, he took time to grieve privately, to honor his own humanity,

but he never left the soul of their marriage covenant.

The covenant — the promise, the sacred bond between them — endured beyond physical decay.

The covenant is the purest form of love: the love of God, the love of two becoming divine.

Grandpa Webb once ran through sliding glass doors, shattering them, while Grandma Webb chased him with a knife in rage and frustration — yet their love remained eternal.

Grandpa Farrell passed before Grandma Farrell, but she never left his side in spirit, even into her own end.

My in-laws, Wayne and Sherry Irish, are a living testament to the trials and tribulations of true love.

From their teenage years into adulthood, through every challenge, their devotion has endured — proof that love, rooted in faith and covenant, is unbreakable, even when the world presses in.

Their love shows the enduring spirit of God’s union, the Divine becoming incarnate in human hearts.

My parents, Dave and Kanada Russell, too, are witnesses to the power of covenant love.

Even in moments of struggle, tension, and the inevitable chaos of life, the steadfast spirit of their bond has held our family together.

Through their love, I have seen the quiet, enduring power of commitment and faith lived out daily — the kind of love that does not require perfection, only devotion.

All of these people — my ancestors, my in-laws, my parents — are why I have faith in love.

It is not a faith I acquired simply in youth.

It is a faith I have seen lived, endured, and testified to through lifetimes of trials, suffering, joy, and steadfast devotion.

And yet, here I am — alone,

bearing the cost of a love too vast to contain.

A love that stretches beyond mortal constraint,

that lingers in the echo of a voice I will never hear again,

a hand I will never hold,

a presence I will never inhabit.

And though it breaks me, I still believe.

Some loves do not end.

They merely change their shape.

They become a rhythm in your chest,

a pulse in your veins,

a quiet, holy insistence that what is eternal cannot be undone.

If love is the thread that binds souls across lifetimes,

then I am forever bound to him.

I have stopped asking when it will fade.

Some loves do not heal.

They do not close like a door.

They do not yield.

They simply live inside you,

a sacred burden, a constant witness to your own devotion.

Maybe ours was never meant to be outgrown.

Maybe it is the echo that proves I once touched forever.

It still hurts, and maybe it always will.

But perhaps that is the cost of divine love 

the price we pay when we touch eternity,

when we touch God,

when we offer our hearts not as mortal vessels,

but as holy conduits for something that cannot be contained,

something that cannot be returned,

and yet demands all we have.

True love, eternal love, is costly —

because it is the closest the divine comes to incarnation in totality.

The cost is real.

It is raw.

It is unrelenting.

And it is holy.

MY TESTIMONY 

This is my heart song, the truth of my sworn, faithful, and holy testimony in the Gods and in the divinity of all, in sacred union.

“And though it breaks me, I still believe —

because love like this is not mine to command, only mine to carry.”

“The Divine has always loved me, the Gods have always been with me, and I love them with a depth beyond reason—how could I love him any less when he makes the fullness of their promise, their covenant of love eternal, my truth, my reality.”

By my breath, by my blood, by my hand 

Dusty (Dustin) Ray Irish-Webb 

Sebastian Raphael WindSoul Luxferian