Those we love

In 'Casablanca', Humphrey Bogart says, "Of all the gin joints, in all the towns, in all the world, she walks into mine".

If we look about to the people we have connected with in our lives, those people who really make a difference to us; those people whom we would be mortified to lose, there is a touch of serendipity about having ever met them in the first place, I think. If we had not met, I suppose we would have had to find someone else to love.

Yet loving them as we do, caring about them as we do, even wondering what would have become of us if we had never met them, there begins to be that feeling that "of all the gin joints, in all the towns, in all the world, she walks into mine" about life, don't you think?

A couple of years ago the husband of the writer of a blog I read died and I cried and cried when I read that. She didn't know how she would go on and I didn't know how she would go on, and I just felt so sad about it all. About a year later, I happened to link onto her again to see how she was doing, and she was in love, about to be married again. It is not an uncommon story. A lover or partner dies and eventually, or even quite quickly, the person moves on to love someone else. I'm always very pleased for them but wonder how they managed to achieve that, since I'm not at all sure that would be my destiny in the same circumstances.

When my father died, my mother closed her mind completely to a new partner, forever. I asked her once if she was sure that she wanted to live her life alone and she said to me, "I've had my love. No one could possibly take your father's place for me." And, that is how it has played out. I suppose I don't have a role model for moving on, though she was extraordinarily brave about recreating her life without him.

In each of the relationships that are very dear to me, the other person needed to make some sort of a first move on me, really. I'm the kind of gal that is going to go somewhere and sit and sit and sit. I'm not going to make the first move on a man. I might initiate contact from a friendship or acquaintance perspective, but I've come to see that romantically, I'd be silly enough to sit and wait until the cows came home before I made the first move on a man I was attracted to.

To this end, I feel inordinately grateful to have in my life an abundant supply of love. I suppose it could be said that I walked into their gin joints. But, if I did, I took a seat and waited to see if they were brave enough to come my way.

My husband says that in my mind they must pass the test. They must prove themselves worthy by being brave enough, interesting enough, and suave enough to say something clever or different. I don't know. He's probably right. I am discriminating. I look for something special.

There are times where I have felt that I needed a good dose of fortitude to live with my husband. I've lost count of the times I've said to him, "I'd hang onto me if I were you because there isn't another woman in the world who could live with you." And I have to admit, in fairness he has said to me countless times, "You are just so difficult. Who else would put up with you?" And, then we smile. He's not going anywhere and neither am I.

I was with my mother at the horse races one time and we watched a funny little old man with a funny little old lady and my mother said, "There is someone for everyone really."

Have we found our one true love in life or do we just develop the capacity to love another with all the humanity we have within us? I have so often wondered this.