They say it’s better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all.
That may be true . . . but "having loved" comes with its difficulties too, once that love is gone. The world is cold, but I had my warmth at home. I am a pretty quirky gal, and have NEVER (at least not in MY view) been the girl getting chased and pursued by a gang of prospects. That’s just never been me. But as sure as the day is long I know that my friend/boyfriend/fiance/husband loved and adored every part of me, good bad and ugly – inside and out. I miss being cherished that way. As I go about life and people-watch, I see folks exchange pleasantries, and extend an air of general, cursory politeness, while reserving the best & sweetest part of themselves for their significant other and their family. Then my mind begins to wax nostalgic about the person who saved all their best for ME. ...The person who gave credence to me insisting that he, whom others may have not thought one way or the other about was the best thing to me since sliced bread. ...The person who thought the same of me, and adored me.
I realize what a blessing it was to have - what I have always called, a love that felt like home. . . . It was a steady, constant, advocating, unconditional, consistent, abiding love that I could set my watch by. It was a fixture… like a huge mature tree with a trunk you could lean on without worrying that it would give way. I miss that. I am proud to say that I had it. The overarching superlative is that I truly did have a person who literally spent the rest of his life loving me until death did us part. As far as the idea of marriage goes - circumstances of his passing aside, it truly was a perfect ending.
The part that breaks my heart is that it had to end.