Belonging to a broken family, I have never understood what marriage is about. To me, it’s just a form of slavery for one of the spouses who fails at controlling the other. To me, it’s just a scripted play of house. A fake portrait of love. A bridge which burns down, taking you with it. To me, there’s no safe way out of marriage. It’s a trap like growing up and the only conclusion of it is your emotional death.
Source: Khurram Jamil Photography (Facebook)
I mean, even if you find a good spouse, where do you go from there? You build your lives together and surrender completely to the habit of having that person around. But what if that person dies? I understand death is a natural process of what makes this planet go round but I don’t think I am emotionally strong enough to handle such a blow. To find someone who’s perfect for you, who fills in your every crack and fits in your every curve like a missing part of you and then to lose it like some piece of a puzzle?
To become, forever, incomplete
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At least that is what I used to think until I read, “My marriage didn’t end when I became a widow” in a NewYork Times Blog. Lucy Kalanithi is right. Just because the partner dies the connection doesn’t break. It still lives in the form of promises you made, the responsibilities you decided to take. Marriage is a spiritual binding of two souls, not physical.
Love Doesn’t Just Disappear
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Just because one vanishes doesn’t mean what you created with that person stands meaningless. The bond, YOUR bond continues to grow and spread as you take care of those creations, as you take care of the person even after their death.
No matter where you go, that part of you is always with you, like winter silence. Absolutely haunting and utterly earth shattering, yet so beautiful.
