Men in Black is one of my favorite movies. There’s one point in there, though, when Agent J (Will Smith) stumbles upon his partner and teacher Agent K (Tommy Lee Jones) wistfully gazing upon a satellite image of his long-lost wife gardening.
Interrupted, K shuts down the video stream. J tries to joke. “Oh, the tough guy image all makes sense now. So she never got those flowers . . .?”
K straightens his desk without looking up.
“Well,” J says, “You know what they say, ‘It’s better to have loved and lost –‘”
At which point K turns and snaps at him, “Try it.”
That has always stuck with me. Losing something seems to be so much harder than never having had it in the first place. Especially love.
As long as we’re seeking, there is hope. Maybe that’s the difference. First of all, until you’ve had something ‘for real’, it hasn’t really left a gaping wound if it’s not there. It’s more like a sometimes lonely or frustrating journey to find it, but your life also has never changed to encompass and adapt to it either. Besides, just wait a little while longer and who knows, it could right around the corner!
Once you’ve had that love, though, once you have adapted to its demands, its fullness, its company, its balancing act, losing it can feel like losing a limb. Especially if you didn’t want it to end. Knowing you cannot replace that love, that specific, cherished, unique particular person and love relationship, is life altering. In that case the sense of loss can be devastating.
Some people, though, suggest that great love, even if lost, teaches us important lessons about ourselves; lessons that we wouldn’t otherwise learn. Lessons like discovering the depth of emotion we’re capable of; the degree to which we’re able to release our egos and fully give whatever the situation demands for the good of the partnership; our capacity for forgiveness; empathy; commitment.
Is there a right answer? Or does it depend on the person, or even on the quality of the lost relationship? Some people move on to even better and happier, more fulfilling loves; others truly did seem to have a once-in-a-lifetime story-book romance. Those are a pretty hard act to follow, and I know people who either lose heart or simply lose interest in romance again, knowing it was something they’ll never be able to replace. Pale, friendly companionship just doesn’t cut it after having had the wild, rich, dizzying romance of a lifetime.
Maybe the answer lies in who ends up the happiest overall? Does having had a glorious love affair and having lost it leave you grateful and content, or wounded and cynical? Maybe never having had it at all leaves you more hopeful, less bereft – or does never having felt that intense passion stifle your ability to really FEEL and be truly intimate with anyone?
The people I know who have lost great loves seem to have become universally bitter and angry, but does this have to always be the case? Is there a way to plumb the depths of that grief, that loss, and build a stronger, deeper capacity to love?
As always I’m interested in your thoughts.
Till next time,
Cathy
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