I started reading "After Annie: A Novel" by Anna Quindlen today. Forty years ago, my wife Jan and I used to read Ms. Quindlen's column "Life in the Thirties" in The New York Times, even if we didn't have time to read anything else. We clipped and saved each column, which helped us manage getting older with children. I am reading "After Annie," which is about how love can overcome loss.
The Pain of Grief a Second Time
Estimated reading time: 3 minutes, 44 secondsMy wife’s death almost five years ago was devastating. When I lost my parents, a few books fell on the outer edge of my bookcase. When my wife died, the entire bookcase collapsed. I knew I needed to rebuild the bookcase and pick up the books from the floor, but I was frozen. I wanted my wife back, even though I knew that was impossible.
As I journeyed through life without my wife, I gradually made progress day by day, and by the early months of the second year, I felt that my grief was finally behind me. Then, by the end of the second year, I met someone with whom I felt an inexplicable connection. We started spending more and more time chatting via text and phone, and I realized that my feelings for her were more than friendship. I mustered up the courage to express my feelings to her, and to my surprise, it felt like I had fallen in love like a teenager again. Initially, everything worked perfectly, and I thought she was also falling in love with me. However, like quicksand, the relationship fell apart and left me bewildered. Despite the unforeseen turn of events, I still held on to the hope that we could resolve any issues and salvage our relationship.
Our first meeting after confessing our love for each other and the end of the relationship was a pivotal moment I will never forget. I poured my heart out to her, expressing how much I loved her and how my feelings had only grown stronger over time. However, her response shattered my hopes and left me devastated. She asked me not to say I loved her as she did not feel the same way. My voice trembled as I spoke, and my words seemed to vanish into the ether, like dew burning off the grass in the park. She tried to explain that she might have initially given me the wrong impression but was not in love with me. The weight of her words hit me like a ton of bricks, and I spent the rest of our time together in a dazed state, sleepwalking through our interactions.
Despite being clear that she did not love me, our conversation was filled with hints of intimacy. However, she made it clear that it couldn’t be anything she would regret. If it had been a one-night stand, it wouldn’t have been her who would have felt any regret. I remembered my wife’s words: “Honey, I know you too well. Richard, be honest; you’re not a one-night stand person. You’re special because you’re a romantic at heart, and you believe in love. If you fall in love again, make sure they love you just as much as you love them.” That night, I chose to walk away to live and love another day.
Merritt Malloy‘s insightful writings taught me that love transcends death and never fades away. During the most heart-wrenching moments of my second grieving phase, I found solace in revisiting her poignant musings on the subject of loneliness. Her words resonated deeply with me, especially when she wrote about the most desolate place she had ever been. It wasn’t when she was alone but in a room with someone she loved who didn’t love her back. I could relate to this sentiment as I had experienced the same feeling of isolation and heartbreak when I was in the same situation. Despite being surrounded by others, the absence of reciprocal love can make one feel incredibly lonely.
The profound words of Anna Quindlen in her novel After Annie continue to resonate with me. As she puts it, grief is like a force of nature, similar to springtime. Just when you think the long winter of sorrow is ending, it can come back with a vengeance, overpowering you again. The thought of moving on from the pain can feel like an act of betrayal.
As someone who has faced and conquered all-consuming grief in the past, I know that I am capable of doing so again. However, I also know that I must proceed with extreme caution before entering into a new relationship. Love may be the most potent force in the universe, but it can also be the most dangerous.
While I long for happiness in a loving relationship, I have realized that being alone may be my only option. I am committed to staying on the healing path for as long as possible.