I found myself asking the question Why didn’t he love me? to a friend the other day. We were in the throws of deep marital discussion and before I could stop my brain from speaking out loud…it did. She smiled. “You’re lucky! It doesn’t matter if he loved you or not. You loved him, right?” I shrugged. “You got to know love, then. Not everyone gets to know what that is like.”
After careful thought a few days later, I realized she was spot on. I had experienced love, for however long it lasted, I had been in love. I had felt the butterflies and the high. I took off the armor. I smiled at the thought of them or the sound of their voice. I had been able to say ‘I love you’ and mean it. It had come into my life and I was happy. I swatted away the sadness I had once felt about losing my marriage and even the judgement that came along with how or why. I was lucky. And the more I thought it, the more I realized I get to do it all over again every single day.
Love surrounds us every day, every second. We get to breathe it in and live in it. We have the opportunity to give it away and heal others and ourselves with it. We get to see the world through different eyes because of it. Love…it can kinda suck. But…then…it doesn’t. There is nothing else like it. The thought of love, finding it again (if I do), is scary–it sorta makes my heart ache, but the thought of living a life without it is even scarier.
After careful thought of what my friend said, I started thanking God for allowing me to love and lose. He allowed me to love and love again. I get to experience love with friends, family, pets, nature, and my children every minute of every day. No, it isn’t romantic love and that is ok. I have had it before…twice actually…and I can gladly live with that. After all, as Alfred Lloyd Tennyson said, ’tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.