Happily married? One of you is going to get your heart broken.
On the flight home from a visit with the grandchildren, I sat next to a couple who looked a lot like Jon and me maybe ten years ago. They bickered for while, worked a crossword puzzle together, then had a long conversation about something that seemed to interest them both. He put his hand on her shoulder. She put a hand on his knee.
They appeared to be what’s known as happily married.
Married. When I see couples like this — genuinely, thoroughly married, some of them just starting out, others with some years packed on — I think, but I don’t say out loud, “You look like you’re happily married. One of you is going to get your heart broken.”
Still In Our Closet
Home from the airport, I roll my suitcases into the bedroom and step into the closet Jon and I once shared. I spot Jon’s khakis and nightshirt still hanging from the hooks where he’d put them seventeen months ago, and I feel love. Love for a nightshirt. Love for a pair of khakis. Love for a man who has gone out of my life — for good, I’m told.
When Jon was alive, my attention would fix on the crossword puzzles, on the bickering, on the easy conversations over dinner.
What I didn’t pay attention to at the time was how much love I was carrying around for Jon.
A Feeling Without a Place to Go
Now, that love has no place to go. It looks for a place to light. It lands on what is left of Jon: his nightshirt and his khakis. And I want to say something more to that couple on the airplane.
After I tell them about the heartbreak that awaits them, I’ll add, “You say you love each other. But, I’m telling you, you love each other way more than you think.”
Happily married — one of you is going to get your heart broken, if all goes well. Is a life-long marriage worth this terrible price of admission? Some thoughts on that at “A Marriage Proposal. The Man Said Yes.” Also, “Oh, Oh. Is Cabin Fever Setting In? Sheltering at Home Day 6.”
Dear Barbara:: For some unknown reason your name popped into my thoughts today, so I googled you. I was saddened to read about the loss of your loved husband. FYI I lost my wife of almost 50 years just 10 years ago and therefore I have a good understanding of this experience. It is not uplifting and clearly not easy to reconcile with yourself. Anyway, good thoughts to you.
Hi Danny. It’s so good to hear from you. Fifty years! That’s a long time. You were/are lucky to have somebody that long. Thanks for the good thoughts! I’m sending some back!
Dear Barbara,
I totally agree with you, I would not, and could not put away all that reminds me of my husband, deceased.. I would not because I treasure all that grief gives me of him. He lives inside me and outside me. It is the honor of my life to love him and to have been loved by him. Why would I want to put that away? (I “could not” because his memory is all pervasive in home and family. I would have to move to a dwelling foreign with no family, friends, or possessions). I am not looking for a “switch.”
I would say to the happily married, let your partner know everyday how much you love them, because you do not know when they will suddenly die or be out of your reach in their descent. As well, ask them if they know you love them, know how much you cherish and appreciate all they have brought .to your life together. It is better to ask than to assume that your ways have thoroughly communicated the depth of your love for them.
Thank you for your writings,
Kathleen
Kathleen, Yes. Such a good idea to ask if your partner knows you love them and how much you appreciate them. One of the great things about a long-term marriage is — you can take that person for granted a little bit. You know they are there and you know they will be there tomorrow. But it’s so good to break through that habit and say things out loud. Thanks for this.
THIS ONE….even more than several of your others….is really powerful, Barbara. It is happening week by week for me and the others who read your blog…or what ever you call this published journal of your travels through life & aging & faith & the joys & sorrows of LOVE……”Blog” seems such a rough word for what I experience reading your product each week. YOUR journey happens each day…but what you have written is just an excerpt from the joys & sufferings of that week that WE all get to vicariously experience. This one was very REAL.
I’m sure you have someone else saying this to you, but there IS a switching time in the grieving….a time when, perhaps by the result of TIME, or some other NECESSITY in your life that comes up. It is a phenomenon hard to explain or describe, but it comes when you discover that the pain & grief is really INSIDE of you….where the memories and mental images are. As a priest, I generally recommend that personal possessions & articles of daily use from the person deceased, be put in a box (or boxes) and tucked away in closet or garage fairly soon after the death so that there is not the visual message…unspoken because it HURTS so much….that “he’ll be back” No decisions need to be made, just the things moved out of sight and mind to be dealt with later when it’s easier. RIGHT NOW their presence tends to make one cling to them as concrete momentos. They push the time of the switch back farther & farther because they are visual & carry unconscious smells & messages we can’t really control.
Some day, Barbara, it WILL hurt less….the stab of pain WILL be less like a real KNIFE piercing your chest….it will stop literally taking away your breath! When the grief is inside of you, you will have more control of it….it won’t literally HIT you like a blow! AND, inside you there are those memories & mental images…his face…and perhaps the sound of his voice, or the sharing of laughter; THOSE, believe it or not, can & will become almost a MEDICINE to help relieve the pain….but it all happens….HAS to happen!…inside your head and heart.
I pray your time of the switch will come and will make it a tiny bit easier. In the mean time, I am so much appreciating how very wonderful your words describe experiences that must connect you to so MANY women in SUCH a deep way. You are a wonderful writer!!
Fr. Jim. You presided at our wedding ceremony, so you know Jon well — and you probably remember him vividly, because he had (has?) such a lively and distinctive personality. So it’s wonderful to enjoy the memory of that day with you.
My experience is that the things (and comments such as yours) that tick the memory of the lost one are wonderful and rich. You have just now reminded me of our wedding day, for example. The nightshirt hanging in the closet brings Jon back to me in a vivid and comforting way. So — I totally disagree with the idea of putting away these objects of remembrance. They help make the memories more vivid and — this is important — they allow the grief to surface and be experienced fully. It is very important to cry, hard and often — to experience our grief in a conscious way. This is healthy and normal.
But — it is equally important to build a new life. New experiences, new friends and loved ones, new projects and passions.
You have just given me an idea for a future post. I will natter on on this subject at length one day soon. So — thank you!
Well, I am glad that my writing brings good thoughts of your wedding day, and certainly there really IS no right or wrong way to carry out one’s mourning; each person is unique and each relationship is unique. I am glad that those things give you comfort and I think you have handled surviving the whole situation very well. I especially liked that you did such a good job on the exterior landscaping…..although I looked pretty closely at how many steps there were, and your words about “skipping up the stairs” brought serious doubt to my mind…..it was a LONG way down those stairs….WOW!
You obviously have MANY friends and a LOT of support available to you, Barbara, and I hope you will continue with this process with a continuing good and optimistic attitude and a much-needed sense of humor……THOSE…..added to the deepest possible gratitude to God for his many blessings should continue to make this a very rich time for you!!
Fr. Jim,
Yes, I am grateful. And I’m going to remind myself of that more often.
No, I don’t skip up the stairs, only down — with one hand hovering over that nice, new sturdy railing.
your essays are deeply affecting. i look forward to sundays for your next post, and for the dates of your next books.
And I look forward to hearing from you, my dear friend.
Love always involves risk, makes us vulnerable.
So true. Thanks, Jeanie! And you and I have loved each other for — how long? — 70 years? From the time we roamed the woods along Lake Michigan together as 10 years olds?
Yes, there is the possibility of a broken heart. But I believe it’s worth it. Life isn’t a fairy tale. Keep a faithful dog nearby who will help you mend your heart 🤗🙏💕. Joy
Joy. A dog — or cat — would be a lovely companion. But I’m lavishing my nurturing impulses on the living things in my garden right now. It seems to be working.
Yep. Broken heart, broken life.
Big hug.
Hitting the nail on the head once again…thanks for sharing all these emotional moments.
Thank you, Nancy. Good to know that I’m managing to wrestle these unexpected feelings into words.