“It is better to have loved and lost than never to have
loved at all.”
- Alfred Lord Tennyson
This is a powerful quote full of truth, yet so bittersweet,
and easy to overlook and underappreciate when one has not truly experienced
loss. I have written about the pain and
sadness, which I have experienced over what had seemed to be true love, yet
this does not compare to the suffering endured when a lover departs this world. Loss is then, no longer about companions
growing apart or one deciding that it is time to move on. It is a forced separation of individuals very
much in love, with their lives planned out, looking forward to growing old
together. Yet, for some unknown reason,
this opportunity is denied. Dreams are
crushed. The physical bond is broken.
At least with the average break-up, one can eventually let
go and take comfort in the fact that their former lover is happier now in a
better place. I suppose, this can still
be said of death, as it eases the suffering of the one in pain, but it doesn’t
seem the same to me.
I read of and try to imagine what it could possibly be like
to endure such anguish, but I have no real frame of reference. I feel silly and selfish for permitting the mourning
my own loss to consume me, when my former love is still alive and able to make
a life for himself, as he desires. I
should not allow myself to experience my losses and defeats as if they are the
end of my world, as there are nearly always worse alternatives, which I would
be unable to comprehend.
