Why do we strive all our lives for love when, in the end, it will leave us anyway? What is it about that boy who is so cute that we must date him? That man that we must marry? That friend that we must get to know? That baby that we must have? Why pursue something that will eventually leave us and rip a huge hole in our lives and our hearts?
My Aunt Pat is saying goodbye to her husband of I-don't-know-how-many-years this week/end. He has terminal cancer and has been given "days" to live by the doctors. He is in the hospital and will never go home. This is how their life together will end. Their two kids will lose his guidance and their five grandkids will simply not get to know him beyond this week. He will become a sweet memory for all of them.
At Ted's funeral this weekend, I watched his wife cry for him and try to steel herself for the next few steps without him. I could sense that she was trying to find that mysterious hidden reserve of strength to allow her to keep putting one foot in front of the other...when all she wants to do is sit in a dark room and cry. She said, quite proudly, that she was so happy to have had not one, but two, amazing husbands in her life.
I spent weeks carrying a baby that I would never get to know. And even if I had that opportunity, there is no guarantee that my time with him wouldn't have been otherwise limited. He could easily have left me at some other point in life.
We all work so hard to find love. And eventually that love will leave us. The inevitability of it all is a curious thing. We all have the same ending. There are no happy endings.
What a strange thing life is.