“I can’t imagine anyone filling your shoes or bed,” I say to my husband. We stare hard into each other’s eyes and see only love. He nods, but I’m never quite sure of his response, or, non-response. It is a discussion we’ve had many times…what would we do if one of us were to die? Would we remain single in our grief, or would we attempt to find love again? How can we know?
A good friend of ours passed away almost a year ago from cancer. She and her husband were a delightful couple to be around and always seemed comfortably, compatibly, in love. I don’t know how many years they had been married, but I’m guessing over forty. Since her death, her husband has started dating again. It took a moment for us to absorb the news because it seemed so odd—and almost painful—to attach another name, another face, with his.
My husband recently spent an afternoon with him and the discussion eventually came around to his romantic life. Our friend said he had had a long talk with his adult sons to make sure they were okay with him dating. To his relief they were extremely supportive and understanding. I asked my husband if he thought our friend would have curtailed dating if his sons had not been approving. “Of course not!” was the response. “We’re not meant to be alone.”
I think that is true to an extent. In my mind the bigger, more important, reason for being with someone is how we feel when we are with them. Do we make each other better, more alive, and empowered? I wouldn’t choose to be with someone just to avoid being alone, would I? Maybe, if a person has spent decades in a partnership based on love, it is harder than I think to face the emptiness of one plate on the table, one towel on the rack, one lonely toothbrush leaning in the glass. Maybe the silence becomes so loud it is unbearable.
That brings me back to where I started. I’m not sure how I’d feel if I knew my husband would quickly look for love again should I die first. How do I resolve the desire for him to be happy—always—with the mental visual of another woman holding his hand, touching his cheek, hearing his heart beat with passion? How can I be jealous of the unknown? Note to self: review the whole “until death to we part thing,” and live 100% in the delicious moments we have now.
Leave a Reply