Loss

Kame isn't much bothered by being alone. He travels along, bound for wherever turtles believe the grass is greener, on the other side of the lawn in this case.

It was a rare warm late-fall day. Kame had explored several areas of the yard before taking off across the lawn as if he knew exactly where he was going and just how to get there.

For a moment, he paused, basking in the sun and seeming to contemplate his surroundings, to orient himself and decide just where to go next. I wonder if he felt alone, although I wasn't far away. I wonder, in that moment, whether he felt lost, or if he was just taking a moment to consider things.

We all suffer loss at some point in our lives. Some losses are great, and some are small, but when we are traveling through that grief, the worst feeling in the world is to feel alone, lost and forgotten in a big, wild world. If we are lucky, friends and family are close enough to offer comfort, but loss, at its heart, is a lonely emotion.
We must each learn to deal with it in our own way, often in the quiet, dark room after everyone has left us, when we lie down and hold a pillow tight, and let the tears fall.

Alfred Lord Tennyson wrote in his poem; In Memoriam:27, 1850:

I hold it true, whate'er befall;
I feel it, when I sorrow most;
'Tis better to have loved and lost
Than never to have loved at all.

The famous lines have become cliche, but do they still ring true? Is it better to love, to feel the depth of the joy and passion and longing, knowing... knowing it can be ripped away at any moment, whether by death or by circumstance or by the simple changing desires of the human heart?

That is a question I am still trying to answer. Even with the ongoing repairs and rebuilding of my marriage, there is loss, something precious that was broken in this process, something I do not know if we'll ever fully recover.
I sometimes find myself grieving for that first, untainted love, the knowledge that this man, this one, is the one I'm meant to spend the rest of my life with, knowing in five years, in ten, in twenty, barring tragedy, he will be at my side. As time goes on, I've come to realize that what I truly lost was a sense of security, of surety in our future. What I lost was never really mine to begin with.

Even a promise sealed with solemn vows, with good intentions and with an honorable spirit, can be broken. 'Til death do us part really means until I change my mind... until I fall in love with another... until I decide this commitment is too difficult, and I want something different... until one of us decides that what we have is no longer worth the pain and the struggle and we let go, trading in our first love for freedom, and a second chance at what we think we're missing out on.

There came a point in my marriage at which I had to make a choice; to stay or to go. At that time, I decided that no matter what happened, I would not be the one to leave. Making that decision was painful, because it meant accepting that I could not stop my husband from leaving, if he so chooses. My commitment does not bind him.

Though the pain and fear have been severe at times, this experience has taught me that sometimes letting go is the stronger choice. Sometimes not holding on is the real test of your commitment. Sometimes you have to let go of someone and let them be the one who chooses to stay. It was the hardest thing I ever had to do, but a promise given unasked is stronger than the one brought about by a demand. I feared his choice, but I knew I had to accept it. I took a chance, choosing to believe in the character of the man I married, choosing to believe he would stay. It turned out to be the right choice for us, and we are stronger for it.

There are miles to go before we sleep, but our steps are guided by a higher Hand, and I know we are moving in the right direction.

Rejoicing in the day,
-Mary

~*~*~

"I cried when I knew I'd lost you, afraid I had lost it all. Then I realized that losing you didn't have to mean I lost me."