You will find love again
One of the themes I've found in grief stuff, is trying to reassure people that they will find love again.
- You will find love again One of the themes I've found in grief stuff, is lots of efforts trying to reassure folks that they will find love again. (It will get better). At least I don't have the fear and insecurity of doubting that. There are lots of lovable people. My first wife and I had discussed this a fair amount over the years, and we both wanted each other happy if we passed (as long as it wasn't at the hand of the other). She kept telling me how trading her in for a younger model would mean they wouldn't get any of my jokes and references. Duh! Of course I never wanted a younger model, just her. But I know that someday, I will likely find someone else. Today is not that day... or year. But life will go on. I will know the sweet tender caress of hearing, "I don't know, where do you want to eat?", "What's that smell?" or "Why did you park here?"
|I don't think her Mom was impressed with my humor when I quipped, "Is it tacky to bring a date to the memorial?"|
Sorry, a little too soon for the dark joke of saying "My first wife". That actually stings a little. Like widower. Ouch. I want to yell at the universe that I want my love back! You robbed me/her! I want US!
"Love of my life" is more true... if I lived another 60 years with someone else (a statistical unlikelihood), they could never influence or impact me as much as the woman I was with from my 20s to almost 60 (we changed so much together, and generally grew closer with the changes, or by adapting to each other)... but that truth seems inconsiderate to the future. Like second helpings at love. But I'm nowhere near there yet, and kinda can't fathom it... though I can imagine someday being able to fathom it.
Melissa and I had that talk a few dozen times over the years. "If I go would you re-marry"... with the reciprocal answer, "Of course I want you to be happy". Her feminine side wanting to make sure the replacement wasn't younger/prettier/skinnier... and my masculine side wanting to make sure Prince Gigolo wasn't going to fleece her out of her estate/security. She wanted me happy, just not TOO happy or to be outdone. (Like that could happen).
She often claimed that she wouldn't get a replacement guy. Not out of honor/duty, but kind of a barb - that guys are dirty, smelly, horny, lazy beasts and she could take care of herself. Not untrue... but like a gassy Dog, she'd be lonely without the loyal affections of one. So we know she was lying. She needed an audience, sounding board and a partner, sometimes in that order. (Don't problem solve, listen!) And I was a trainable mutt.
I teased her, if that she wouldn't remarry, that proved that I broke her for other men. I was good with that. (She'd have remarried).
We both knew that I was the more independent one (aka less in need of external validation... independent sounds a lot better than aloof or egocentric). But I grew up with a very young Mom, and I reminded her of her biggest mistake. I had abusive step-Dad, was years ahead in school (teased for being tiny and genius). I didn't "fit" well with many peers (I fit well enough to have friends, but I more floated between many cliques than belonged to any). So I had to become self-sustaining, emotionally as well as physically. And after a few decades, I get to see how atrophed those abilities are. I've been spoiled by an extremely considerate/tolerant wife.
As for replacements, I occasionally teased her about newer models, but I sincerely celebrated our aging together. I liked the wrinkles we'd earned. She gave me 32 years of happiness and devotion -- and I'm feircly loyal to people that earn it. 15+ years ago, I even lost the wandering eye of youth. Even though we were fine, I checked to see if it was Low-T (seemed abnormal that I looked at other women with the sexual arrousal of Hillary Clinton's Gay Gynocologist). Nope. I'd just lost all interest in bangin' strange and anyone but her. Completely focused on old reliable. (I guffawed at how pissed she'd be at that description). Turning on my turn-on (for anyone else) is going to be a weird transition... someday... if that switch isn't rusted shut. I truly loved almost everything about her... and the things I didn't, weren't deal breakers, or grew to be comforting.
But the thing is, I don't doubt that love is out there for me... someday. Even if for the moment, I'm about as hungry as after I left Italian Thanksgiving. (I only want pepto bismal for my heart).
- Rage Cry <- despite all that, this is still a male (and I assume female) reaction to grief. Especially of a caregiver, that knew it was coming, and had to see it coming in slow motion.
Tags: Grief Lessons