Better to Have Loved and Lost

Cliches about lost love never go out of fashion but they sure don't fit all situations. I am continually amazed at the idea that some widowed people hang onto that somehow the death of their spouses is on par with divorce or separation or even the break-up of a romance.

Many of us are offered the dubious comfort of envy. Friends, relations, and even near-strangers, remind us that our marriages and the time we had with our lost loved ones is more than most people ever have the slightest chance to experience over the course of entire life-times it seems. Though not even a cold comfort, it is true. We were lucky and loved. What puzzles me is the idea that we "lost" at love. We didn't. We were loved. We are in all likelihood still loved, truly and deeply, though it might be hard to reach those feelings when anger and pain and the feeling of being cheated are all we allow ourselves to feel at first, and in the cases of some - for a long, long time. But we are not losers. We didn't end our relationships in front of a judge or discover one day after months, or years, that our inattention to each other had starved the emotions that once fanned desire. What we are is what remains of love after one of the pair is claimed by his or her mortality. It's not pretty, nor does it feel good, but it is not losing. Nor is it consolation. It is what it is but leave the bitterness to those who are the co-authors of their love's demise.

We chosen few have no reason to hang our heads or linger in bitterness. We are better for having loved, and being loved in return through all the heights and lulls that we know our soul enriching when others see them as valueless. I know that I gained more from the short time with my late husband than I will ever be able to explain. The love, as well as the pain and sorrow, separates me from those who are true losers at love. I gave my all. So did he. We played through to the true end. What more could anyone hope for?