The man I was going to marry died. 19 years have passed, I got married again, but I am still in pain

The man I was going to marry died. 19 years have passed, I got married again, but I am still in pain

When I was 18, my first day at university, I met the man I was going to marry. My best friend who was in the same school as me recommended us. I vividly remember the moment he whispered in my ear not to hear “he’s what I told you”. One that recommended us and one that… I stayed. He had a beautiful face, an amazing face with corners, hidden in rich, long, black hair, beautiful eyes that laughed even when he smiled and dimples. He looked a lot like Tom Cruise in his youth.

“Hello,” I said.

“Hello,” he replied.

From that day on we never parted. We were always and everywhere together. Together for food, together walk, together everywhere. We laughed all the time and I could tell him everything, all my secrets, even what I was afraid to tell others and he never said anything that put me in a difficult position. He hugged me well, he hugged me even when I cried. But he also told me all his secrets, even those he did not dare to tell to others, and I always listened to him. We were madly in love. I loved him and he loved me with that love of 18 years, the innocent, the pure, the superficial one could say but I knew that what was between us was something different, something deeper. We were so much the same, so tied up but also so confused. We loved each other in a way I can not explain to you.

Everyone knew that this was the man I was going to marry. My parents knew it, my relatives knew it, our friends knew it.

He was the first man I had sex with on a rainy December night, an unforgettable night just before Christmas when everything around us was quiet. It was perfect. When we broke up that night, I cried.

On Valentine’s Day I got him a bunch of presents and as a surprise I wrote on the board of the amphitheater at the University a huge “I love you” and one “Do you want to get married?” with chalk. As soon as he sat on the bench, he immediately understood who had written it. Even if he did not understand it, those around him would applaud him, shouting “Perfect. Go to ours too “.

I got my first piece of jewelry as a gift from him. A pair of earrings with two small diamonds on. We had even decided how to take our children out. We dreamed and planned the life we ​​were not going to live.

I had unlimited trust in him. He was driving my car and we spent the whole summer together. When he had to do a small operation, I did not ask permission from my parents or his parents or anyone. I stayed by his side from beginning to end. Only me, no one else. This is what loving couples do. Together in health, together in disease.

We were only 19 years old but determined to live our whole lives together. When we got engaged, his mother gave me the most beautiful family heirloom there was.

And one day he died suddenly. I could tell you the whole story, minute by minute, but I will not do it. Our nightmare lasted two weeks. All I can remember from that time are nightmarish images, hospital lights, me crying, the sound of buses coming and going and a thousand more terrible things, but better not go into details. Let me tell you this: On August 24, 2000, the man I was about to marry fell into a coma until he died on September 7.

Everyone thought I was going to die too but I did not. I did my best and I endured. The first year everyone was worried about me but then they forgot. To me the man I was going to marry was dead. I felt like Alice who fell into that rabbit hole and suddenly found herself alone in a place that made no sense, in the dark Wonderland. Everyone told me he was dead and that I had to get over it. I, for my part, was carrying my own cross.

My world had collapsed. The man I was going to marry was dead. As the mourning bells rang, I saw my whole future being erased. I did some other relationships later mainly for sex but in vain. I could not find a single point of contact with anyone. None of them understood me. All of them were “somewhat” in the face of this loss that prevailed in my existence. To everyone I was not just a twenty-year-old widow. Even my mother used to tell me that I had to get over it and that no one would accept to be with me if I continued to behave like that. Her words made me feel like I was drowning. The image of him in the hospital bed in a coma had haunted me.

Nobody understood me. After 1, 2, 3 years I was still the crazy one who could not bring back her dead lover. They saw me and felt sorry for me. “Poor… can’t get over it,” everyone said.

It has been 19 years since then and no one even remembers his name. The man I was going to marry died when he was 19 years old, 19 years ago. The years will pass and one day I will not remember how much time has passed since I lost him, when he will be dead for longer than he had lived.

My husband knows but does not understand. I’m not talking about him at all anymore. How could I? How could I look at the man I married and tell him that I was still in pain for the man I loved? How could I look at him and tell him that I love him but I loved him more and now I miss him? Sometimes I look at my children and realize that I did not do it with the one I wanted nor did I give them the names I had decided with him.

Whoever I try to talk to does not understand me. They listen to my story but pretend they do not listen to me: I lost him when I was 19. The man I loved “left”. I lost the love of my life. He died and left me alone to feel like I was drowning every time I remembered him. They do not understand how a 19-year-old girl can be so confident. They think that because I was little the love was for me rainbows and sunsets.

My best friend met the woman of his life at 17. They have been together for 30 years and still in love. I often talk to him about something that helps me a lot. If he lived… if he lived we would still be together ρω I know we would still be together.

When someone is in pain because they lost someone they loved dearly, the lack of recognition of their feelings makes it all the worse. He suffers and is ashamed of it. It is hidden so that others do not see it. My husband does not understand why every late August-early September I feel so bad. Many times I raise my voice to everyone for no reason. He forgets why I can not bear to see people in a coma. Sometimes I want to shout: The man I was going to marry died. No one can understand me and no one will understand me unless they have lost someone. Do not tell me that just because I was 19 meant nothing to me. Do not underestimate me because I was small. Do not tell me that I was not really sad, that I was not hurt, that I did not feel like I was dying. Do not tell me that I should have already overcome it. Do not tell me that time heals all wounds. Do not tell me that a wounded heart can be healed and that I should be grateful for the man I have.

I love my husband truly and completely. You can love two people at the same time for different reasons. You may suffer because you lost one and at the same time love the other. They have nothing to do with each other. Love is not a zero-sum game.

His sister understands me. Our families may not have been able to reunite but we still have a great relationship and we are often together. The last time I saw her we sat down for a coffee and I noticed her engagement ring. She told me it was her grandmother’s. As soon as I saw it, my voice almost “broke” and all I could say was “this was my engagement ring”.

She looked at me calmly and nodded in agreement. He held my hand and stroked it gently. Her brother was dead. The man I was going to marry was dead. 19 years have passed but the pain is not gone.

I hope even one of you understands me.


Source: διαφορετικό by

*The article has been translated based on the content of διαφορετικό by If there is any problem regarding the content, copyright, please leave a report below the article. We will try to process as quickly as possible to protect the rights of the author. Thank you very much!

*We just want readers to access information more quickly and easily with other multilingual content, instead of information only available in a certain language.

*We always respect the copyright of the content of the author and always include the original link of the source article.If the author disagrees, just leave the report below the article, the article will be edited or deleted at the request of the author. Thanks very much! Best regards!