A recent conversation with
friends proposed this topic: If your spouse died, would you remarry?
Without hesitation, Craig and I both
agreed that we would remarry as we would miss the companionship of
marriage. He easily admitted that
he would want me to be happy, and I wished the same for him. I did forewarn him, though, that I
would haunt him if he picked a woman that didn’t place great value in the
feelings of our children. Because
if they were to lose me, I wanted to be replaced by a woman who would love
them, set a good example for them and have their best interests at heart. He agreed that was a justifiable
threat.
I was surprised, though, by the
response of the other two couples in the room that did not yet have
children. One woman was sure her
husband would remarry for companionship, but vowed she would live the rest of
her life alone in solitude.
He was the only man she’d ever loved, and was quite certain that her broken heart wouldn’t allow her to love in a different direction. She was so adamant that her husband
would remarry that he opted out of the conversation despite her nervous
probing. My assumption is that he
cared too much about her feelings to risk hurting them by considering the
possibility of the very truth she feared.
The third couple did not answer
the question in regards to themselves, but instead focused on the certainty
that they would not want their spouse to remarry. The man from the second couple asked, “If you were dead,
what would it matter?” Neither one
could offer a reasonable answer, and remained un-shamed by their shared
possessiveness.
I couldn’t help but wonder what
this conversation said about Craig and I as a couple. Were we able to wish for each other’s happiness because our
children have taught us to love outside of ourselves? Should we care that the only limitations we place on each
other are based on the collective well-being of our kids? Is our commitment to each other less
than the commitment of the second couple, who will not be parted even by death?
There are no definitive answers
to these questions, and they probably don't even apply because every relationship is different. Whatever the case, I’m encouraged that Craig and I agree that life should be full of love after an unwanted death. And I’m hopeful for the other couples,
too, that they share in their own philosophies of 'til death do us part. Because for a marriage to live long enough to find out what would really happen after one spouse dies, I think being on the same page in matters of the heart is fundamental.
3 comments:
Well said Kristin. Love that you are blogging again. Keep up the great work.
Hmmm...well, I LOVED being married and was married to my best friend and the love of my life. Even though we never discussed it before he passed away, I know had I passed first, I would have sent him the most amazing, beautiful, loving woman to love him, comfort him and help him raise our three kids as her own, with her heart full of love, compassion, patience and empathy. However, since the roles are reversed and I find myself pondering where to go with all of this, I believe he loved me so much that he is working on the same for me. I think even though I have been blessed, I am also learning some lessons along the way. There really is nothing like marriage to the right person. What I have come to learn is that I have to be open to the idea that there IS more than one love of my life and a forever. My forever with him was 20 years...I have so much more loving to do <3
Beautifully said. Love the idea of sending from above. Here's to hoping you get your special package when the time is right.
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