The New York Times this Sunday seemed to burst with pieces that spoke to me. The article on the young woman who had herself tested for the Huntington’s gene was astounding and moving. The magazine piece on today’s women vets from Iraq was devastating and sad. Then, there was the Modern Love piece on the couple so much joined even though they had been divorced 40 years they died within days of each other.
This piece described how two people, not able to be together because of basic differences, were so in love they remained convivial friends long after the divorce. Their children stood as witnesses to the long years during which they continued to converse and communicate, all the while denying real attachment which was so evident. I often said during my years of practice as a divorce lawyer that some couples are never able to really divorce because they are so attached to the relationship they continue the fight which used to be their marriage. Now in my work, I see the evidence of such relationships everyday.
In my own life, there was one relationship I experienced that changed me forever. I often think it should have been enough that I offered my heart and he loved me for a while. It isn’t. I wonder sometimes if that loss will define me the rest of days.
And then my son puts on his bright blue sunglasses in the dusk and reaches for my hand because he can’t really see; looking up he says, “Mommy, cool glasses.” I realize there is no loss that could ever really define me, so long as Ben’s hand touches mine.