Better to have loved and lost...

You'd think after being around so much loss and pain I would be developing a somewhat bitter view on life.  I can't count how many people I've met since working here that have had to grieve the loss of a husband, wife, friend, or sibling. 

I spoke with a 91-year-old woman this morning who had just gotten a call that her older sister had died.  She was handling it quite well, but you could tell it was hitting her hard.  She is now the only one living of three sisters (of which she is the youngest).  Being the baby of three girls myself, this especially struck a chord with me.  As she showed me some photos, I couldn't help but imagine myself in the same situation 70 years from now.

Add this to all the incredibly loyal spouses I've seen come in day after day to visit a partner who, thanks to Alzheimer's, has become an almost non-responsive stranger, or to a husband who has been widowed for longer than I have been alive.

It's almost enough to make me not want to love.  Why would I want to open myself up to such intimate relationships when I know that nine times out of ten, it will end in difficult heartbreak and loss?

Because it's love.

Love is the one thing worth doing even though you know you might lose it.  We've all heard the expression, "Better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all."  I think many of the people I've met in these situations would still embrace that saying wholeheartedly.  Even through their tears.

Being around all this loss doesn't make me not want to love.  It makes me want to love harder.  It's not as if I can just choose to distance myself from these relationships (or never start them) so that I won't have to go through losing them someday.  Instead, I want to embrace them as passionately as I can, so that when the time comes to say goodbye, I can rest in knowing that I didn't waste a single second.

The woman whose sister passed away today told me that her other sister, who died five years ago, had the opportunity to visit once but decided not to come.  She said it would be too hard to say goodbye and that they better just stick to talking on the phone.  That's a hard thing to hear when you're longing to see someone.  And from the outside, the notion seems silly, but as illogical as it may be, there is some merit to the emotions that prompt it. 

I can remember thinking it was the most painful thing in the world to say goodbye when my older sisters would have to go back to college after a visit.  It really did feel as if it would be easier if they just didn't visit at all.  But love isn't about being easy.  It isn't about not hurting.  It's about, well, loving. 

Some things seem like they need to be justified, especially if they could add some pain to your life, but love is not one of them.  You never need to explain yourself for passionately loving those you hold dear, even if you know someday it may in fact break your heart. 

I can't really say why it's worth it, I just know it is.  Love is funny like that.