To have and to hold

(written last night at around 9:48 p.m.)

Earlier this evening, I accompanied my mom and my aunt to the wake of a distant relative. The lady who died was 89 years old. She left behind 11 children and children-in-law, about 10 grandchildren and her 91 year old husband. There is no greater sadness than the sadness on the face of a man who has lost his love of 64 years. As I look at this man as he stares at the coffin of his wife, I wonder what he is reflecting on.

At first I thought he might be thinking, “Was it all worth it? Committing to this person and saying ‘til death do us apart’?” It is also possible that he is trying to recall all the good and bad times they’ve shared with each other and how it all made them a stronger pair. And just maybe he is also looking forward to joining her.

It does take great love for one to risk having this vulnerable moment in one's life. To loose the person you truly love and sit quietly in her wake and have that sadness on your face.

I admire these people. I don’t know if I would be as composed as they are. These are actually moments that I reflect on what I can give and what I can risk for the person I love. It makes me sometimes feel selfish because I do not want to feel that sadness, not as tremendous as that. Also, I do not want him to feel that sadness, too, if ever I go ahead of him. This is why I feel some kind of relief when I hear couples who pass away together. I know it may sound grotesque but don’t we all, at some point in our lives, wished that we leave this world with our true love.

I cannot say that I am really ready to have this kind of commitment. Marriage. I know that it may seem that I’ve been wanting to get married, but honestly my fear of what goes with marriage is real. Can I bear losing him anytime after we take that commitment? One might say that the reason for having this fear is because I haven’t felt great love. Maybe it’s true. I don’t know.

But I do look forward to that day when I say, ‘til death do us apart’, and not be afraid anymore. And during his wake (hopefully, after many years of being married) a visitor would see in the sadness on my face that I have lost my greatest love.