Who's That Girl?

I’ve been asked what it’s like to fall in love again after losing my spouse.

The truth is, it’s different in ways I never could have imagined.

When you’ve experienced the kind of loss that shatters your world, your perspective changes forever. 

Suddenly, the little things that used to cause arguments seem so insignificant. The dishes in the sink. The forgotten errand. The bad mood after a long day. None of it feels worth sacrificing even a single moment together.

Because you know something many people don’t.

You know that one ordinary day can become the last ordinary day you’ll ever have.

So instead of keeping score, you choose grace.

Instead of arguing to be right, you choose peace.

Instead of assuming there will always be tomorrow, you hold their hand a little longer today. Some days you won’t want to let go at all.

You find yourself wanting to be with them not because you have to, but because you genuinely cherish every single moment you get.

A quiet coffee together. A quick grocery run. A message that says, “I miss you.” That kiss goodbye that you hold a little bit longer. Their laugh from the next room. The way they instinctively reach for your hand to hold. 

These aren’t ordinary anymore.

They’re gifts.

When you’ve lived through unimaginable grief, you appreciate the little things because you know they are, in fact, the big things.

There’s an unspoken awareness that hovers over everything: life is fragile, time is precious, and love is never guaranteed.

That awareness softens your heart.

It teaches you to hug tighter, say “I love you” more often, and never leave someone wondering how much they mean to you.

Maybe that’s the secret to the extraordinary relationship we’ve found together. But the truth is, it isn’t a secret at all.  

It’s just two people who experienced the greatest loss we ever could, and decided to focus on bringing each other happiness instead of focusing on insignificant little things. 

Twenty months later, and not a single thing either of us does is annoying or irritating, and neither of us gets the other frustrated or angry.

Just loving, living and cherishing every small thing.

Loving after loss doesn’t make you love less.

It makes you love with intention.

With gratitude.

With the quiet understanding that every ordinary day together is actually extraordinary.

And if there’s one lesson grief has given me, it’s this:

The greatest gift isn’t finding perfection. 

It’s finding someone whose love feels like home, whose presence makes the hard days softer, and whose hand you never want to let go of because every moment with them is a gift you will absolutely never take for granted.

xo LM