The Thought of Losing Each Other

One of the most painful and emotionally complex realities of being in a long-term, deeply committed marriage is having to face the thought of death. It’s not something that comes up easily in conversation—not because we don’t love or trust each other, but because the idea of losing one another is simply unbearable. Every time I try to talk to Nate about it, he immediately shuts down. He changes the subject or goes silent. It’s not because he’s avoiding me—it’s because the mere thought of living in a world without me is something his heart cannot even begin to accept. And truth be told, I feel exactly the same way. It’s not just fear. It’s a kind of soul-deep resistance to imagining life without the one person who has been by your side through everything.

When you’ve spent years—decades—with someone, your lives don’t just run parallel. They become one. You wake up together, you plan together, you grow, struggle, forgive, and love together. You build a home—not just the physical space, but the emotional and spiritual refuge where both of your hearts feel safe. Your memories become shared chapters. Your inside jokes are a language only the two of you understand. You rely on each other in ways no one else even sees. That kind of love and closeness, it’s not easily put into words. It’s lived. It’s felt in the silence, in the glances, in the smallest of daily rituals that no one else notices but mean everything.

That’s why the idea of losing Nate is something I can’t bear to think about for more than a few seconds. It hits too hard, too deep. I think of all the elderly couples I’ve heard about—those who’ve been married for 50 or 60 years—and how, when one passes, the other follows not long after. Some say it’s from heartbreak. And I believe that. Wholeheartedly. I’ve read about it and even seen it with my own eyes: a husband or wife who just fades away, not from sickness, but from the pain of being left behind. When your life has been built around someone else’s presence, how do you suddenly fill that silence? How do you keep going when the one person who made everything brighter, softer, and more meaningful is no longer there?

Nate often says a prayer that’s simple, yet carries the weight of a lifetime of love. “Lord, if we go, we go together.” Every time he says that, my heart swells with emotion. It’s not a dramatic statement—it’s a sincere, desperate hope. He doesn’t want to live in a world without me, and I feel the exact same way about him. We’re not just husband and wife—we are each other’s best friend, soul partner, and spiritual anchor. Losing him would feel like losing the better half of myself. And I believe he feels the same about me.

People might think it's dramatic or overly sentimental, but unless you’ve experienced a love like this, it’s hard to explain. It’s more than companionship. It’s more than just growing old together. It’s the kind of bond where your entire sense of purpose, your emotional rhythm, your very heartbeat is connected to another person’s presence in your life. It’s knowing that no matter what happens, you’re not walking alone. You’ve got someone who understands your silence, who stands with you in your darkest hours, and who celebrates your light without jealousy or reservation.

order:

So yes, the thought of losing each other is terrifying. It’s not just a fear—it’s a sorrow we try to keep tucked away because facing it too often would hurt too much. Still, it lingers in the back of our minds. And when it comes to love this deep, maybe that fear is just another form of gratitude. Because we know what we have is rare. It’s real. And if the day ever comes when we do have to say goodbye, we pray it’s together. Because being without each other would be the hardest journey either of us could ever face.

Until then, we hold each other close. We cherish the time, the laughter, the routines, and even the quiet. Because in every moment, there’s love. And in that love, there’s everything.