When Forever Means Forever

There are some universal aspects to the human experience, right? At least a few. I’ve argued for many years that lived experience is complex, and that nobody is going to experience the same exact things as anybody else, but that there has to be some way for us to grasp some of another person’s perspective, even so. That’s why I can work with someone as they address an addiction even though I’ve never struggled with drugs and alcohol. That’s also why I can help someone through postpartum depression even though I’ve never carried a child. We accept this universality about some things, but not about others, which is interesting to me.

Still, if I stub my toe you can comfort me because you have probably stubbed your toe before. That makes sense, even though you don’t feel the same exact thing I do, and maybe never have.

So I’m arguing that some of the things I’m going through can be understood by you on some level, because you’ve probably experienced a loss yourself at some point. Maybe even the loss of a spouse or long-term partner. So you can discern the outlines of my pain, even if you don’t exactly feel my pain. And that’s good, because I don’t want you to feel this pain! It sucks! But it sure would be nice to be understood sometimes, regardless.

There’s a difference between you understanding a piece of my pain and grasping some of what I’m going through and laying it over your own feelings about this loss, any loss, or comparing those losses in general. It’s not a contest, and my pain isn’t necessarily any worse or any more valid than yours. When people tell me that their sadness about Kellie’s death doesn’t really matter because my grief matters more, it makes me really sad. Because grief is grief is grief—nobody gets a trophy for having the worst grief, and we’re not in a competition here.

There’s also a difference between you understanding decisions that I’m making or decisions that I plan to make and deciding whether you would make the same ones yourself. I’m talking about myself. I am entitled to my own choices and you are entitled to yours. I’m not even judging you for feeling led to go a different path than me—that’s fine. The world is full of an infinite diversity of human beings, and we are not all going to make the same life choices. I’m glad about that, because those same life choices aren’t the right ones for each of us.

I have been saying this for six weeks, and I plan to keep saying it, at least until people can grasp that I am serious and not just having a knee-jerk response: I chose to be with Kellie forever. I made that declaration publicly in two different wedding ceremonies twenty years apart, and that declaration privately to her at least a thousand times. “Forever” is not something I take lightly or something that somehow stopped when Kellie died. I am not interested in having any romantic partners other than her.

What is it about this decision that makes folks so uncomfortable? This isn’t about anybody else and what is right for them. It is about Kellie and I. You don’t need to decide if my choice is okay with you based upon what you would do—I give you my blessing to make your own judgment call based upon what you feel is right for you. I’m just frustrated that this same compassion and acceptance cannot be extended to me. If people are happy when someone makes a long-term commitment to a person, why wouldn’t they also be happy when someone chooses to maintain that long-term commitment even after death?

I guess what I’m saying is that if we celebrate that lifestyles can vary from person to person and that there are many different ways of finding happiness, can’t people just celebrate that I am planning to pursue joy in my life in ways other than finding a new partner? I am not intending to wear ashes and sackcloth, I am not intending to bury myself in an anthill or self-flagellate with a whip to make myself suffer. I will not be wearing black (any more than is typical for me). But I will also not be in a romantic relationship with anybody else.

I fully intend to enjoy everything else that life has to offer. I will find happiness where I can, and I will continue to experience love and fellowship and community. I will revel in my friendships and the joys of interpersonal connection. It won’t be romantic connection, though. And the sooner you all come to terms with that (for me, not for you), the happier we will all be.

Love you. Platonically.

Matt