Of love and Lost

To have loved and lost is better than to never have loved at all. At least that is what they say and tell you. But is it really true? Would life of been better to have never known of their existence, to never feel those resounding feelings? Would it of been better to have never experience the pleasure before the horrid pain of their lost? These are questions I ask myself every day for the past year. Now that the one person that truly knew you, the one who understood you, the one who placed their full attention on you when the rest of the world looked away, is gone. Never to look upon you, to hold your hand, to hold you whispering ‘everything will be alright’. The lost of the love of your life is nothing anyone can understand; it is immeasurable and unique to each individual. The pain is inexpressible, a personal attack on your every moment. There is no escaping it, it is futile to try. Every day is a personal war, you are uncertain as to whether you are winning or really losing. For me I choose to think to never have loved at all would have been better, but I am selfish in my thoughts, concerned only for my own aching heart and sorrow. I know he did and would not feel the same. The moments we shared were not without their faults, but they were worth every second. He would tell me to look up and wipe the tears from my eyes; I am alive and need to live it to the fullest. I use to joke at him when he would say this to me, ‘you are my whole life, I cannot live without you’. But not I am faced with that exact predicament; he has been taken from me. For no reason, he did no great harm; if this was to punish me god, then why not take me? Not the life of a fool who choose to love such a mangled person. They say god works in mysterious ways, but I question his motives. How can a god who loves us allow us to suffer so much? I know thousands have asked this question, I only one of millions. My pain has turned to hatred, hatred for the seemingly disregard of human life. I am tired of everyone saying it will get better with time, but I do not want it to. I want to remember every little thing. I want to walk in our room and burst in to tears because his boxers are sitting on the dresser. I want to cook dinner and remember his arms around me as I cooked at the stove, him mockingly telling me not to burn the house down. I want to remember his smell, experience every memory we ever had together. Go to where we met and close my eyes, picturing his face and smile. I will never let go of these memories, I know they will eventually fade but the feelings with remain. He will forever be in my heart; he is imbedded in my soul eternally. I will struggle, I will go into fits, some days I won’t be able handle it, I will break down and push everyone away. But I will always remember those feelings, the life he brought into me, the world he showed me. The lost of a loved one is a misfortune beyond all misfortunes, what defines it is your perseverance, your determination to never let them die. Remember those feelings, go to those places, cry every moment you get. But do not EVER let go, hold on with all your might, but know when to let go. Not of the memories or feelings, but of the pain. I know he is looking down on me; I have him with me everyday deep in my heart. He said he would never leave me and he has not left me spiritually. He is part of my being and that is something that can never be changed or altered. He was and always will be the love of my life. I loved you then, now, and until we reunite once again.