whoever you want to be…

Love and loss

“We’re born alone, we live alone, we die alone. Only through our love and friendship can we create the illusion for the moment that we’re not alone.” – Orson Welles

Readers of my regular blog will know that recently I’ve been somewhat preoccupied by the tragic death of a friend in a car accident. Even though I didn’t know him well (we met at a mutual friend’s wedding two weeks before the accident), we had spent enough time together for me to realise he was someone really quite special, and the knowledge he has been taken from this world so young, coupled with the pain his loved ones are now going through, is almost too much to bear (and if I feel that way, I can only imagine the depths of grief his girlfriend, parents and best friends are going through).

Last week I mentioned the passing of my friend to someone at a mutual friend’s leaving dinner. In response she said that hearing the story made her scared to ever fall in love. When I got home that evening I thought long and hard about the impermanency of love, or, more specifically, about how even if you are fortunate enough to find ‘The One’ (and let’s face it, many people spend their whole lives searching for love and never find it) and they feel the same about you it doesn’t necessarily mean that circumstances won’t conspire against you to prevent you being together, as in the case of my friends.

The quote I started this post with is, in many respects, true. We humans like to rely on one another, to seek out others who can help and support us through this life; people to whom we can abdicate responsibility when it all just gets too much, who can comfort us when times are hard. But ultimately we must be able to look after ourselves. Because if we cannot, at the core of our own solitary being, find a seed of certainty in who we are and what we stand for then how can we but drown in a sea of doubt and despair?

But, that being so, I simply cannot subscribe to the notion of refusing to permit love for fear of it ending. There is no more catastrophic ending to a relationship than death, but if that relationship was full to the brim of love, mutual respect and support, how could it have been better for it not to have existed in the first place? As hard as it is to let go of a loved one, I wholeheartedly believe the quote with which I will finish this post below. Love is a rare and glorious treasure. It is far better to experience it in all of its radiant and sometimes overwhelming colours than to never experience it in the first place. As I know everyone affected by this particular tragedy will agree.

“’Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.” – Alfred Lord Tennyson

Well said, Alfred.



About Belle365

Hi, I’m Belle. Thanks for stopping by. Here's a list of ten things about me: 1. I want to write, but rarely do it. This tortures me daily, and, unless I seek to remedy it by writing more often, will continue to torture me until my dying day. 2. I worry: about hate, about greed, about selfishness, about the state of the world my (God willing) children will inherit. I worry about what people think of me. I worry that this makes me shallow. I worry about things happening to my loved ones. I worry how I would cope. I worry that this makes me selfish. I worry that worrying will send me to an early grave. But I'm so good at worrying that I also wonder what I would do if I wasn't worrying. Probably more writing (see point 1)....Oh. 3. I see myself as two people (though, as far as I am aware, I am not technically schizophrenic): a) the fancy dress loving party girl, who loves nothing more than having fun with her friends, because she has seen through her own experiences that life is short, so why not enjoy the ride? b) the more serious and reflective person who wants to learn and to help people and to find her higher purpose (I suspect it is also she who really, really wants to write). Sometimes these sides are conflicting. Fortunately they are in total agreement when it comes to chocolate, red wine and travel. 4. I don't see myself as an ardent feminist, but the older I get the more frustrated I feel by the societal view of women and ageing. Having just hit the metabolically displeasing age of 35 (now officially past it according to the massive wankflap that is Donald Trump, as well as virtually every media outlet on the planet, whether they overtly state it or not) I hate the fact I am made (and have let myself be manipulated) to feel that my fertility is now teetering on the edge of a clifftop free fall, and that even if I do negotiate this rocky march towards infertility and manage a miracle procreation, my usefulness as a financially solvent career woman will be over, seeing as having a baby in your mid to late thirties is pretty much akin to career suicide. It's enough to make you want to drown yourself in a vat of wine (hence why I often don a wig and do just that - see point 3a). 5. The older I get, the more I realise that you are never too old to love drum and bass (whether you are ever too old to publicly dance to drum and bass is an issue I am currently grappling with). Ditto UK garage. I will never be ashamed of these two great loves. Never. 6. Speaking of great loves, I have two: my husband, who (sickening as it is) completes me, and Leonardo DiCaprio, whom I have loved since I first laid eyes on him as Romeo to Kate Winslet's Juliet, and will love until my dying day (likewise the husband, all being well). As much as I like Kate Winslet, I will never forgive her for leaving him on that door. There was definitely room for two. 7. I am riddled with self doubt, and have a serious case of imposter syndrome, particularly in relation to my fourteen year communications career. I have never understood how anyone could deem me capable of running their campaigns. The lack of complaints would suggest I haven't made a total balls up of it so far. But there's still time. 8. Infinity and death frighten me senseless. I can't even talk about the universe without breaking into a sweat. I need to believe in life after death because death CANNOT be the end. I should probably have some (more) counselling to address these issues. 9. If procrastination were an Olympic sport, I would win Gold, Silver and Bronze (to give an example, I sat down an hour ago to work on my new novel, and instead have been updating this bio. I refer you to point 1. Sigh). 10. I make more lists than Buzzfeed. When I die, besides having Oasis's Champagne Supernova played at my funeral (deep breaths - see point 8), I should probably have a To Do list inscribed on my headstone for when I reach the other side...

2 comments on “Love and loss

  1. Claire
    September 30, 2013

    My first husband died in a motorbike accident when we were both 26 years old- I am 44 now. He was first love and we’d been together almost nine years. I also live by Tennyson’s motto but after his death it took a long time before I could actually believe that all the pain and heartache I went through was worth it because of the amazing years we had spent together.

  2. belle365.co.uk
    September 30, 2013

    I’m so sorry for your loss, Claire. It’s just so tragic when two people who are so in love are cruelly prevented from being together in this life. I do believe, however, that death is not ‘the end,’ and that we will be reunited with our loved ones when our time on this earth ends. x

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This entry was posted on September 30, 2013 by in Bea Spiritual and tagged , , , , , , , , .
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