My husband and I have a friend who has lost the love of his life. He talked to my husband a little bit about the regret he feels from being loudly demanding. He advised my husband to mend his ways and be more appreciative before it’s too late.
His wife was my friend. She knew very well, exactly who he is and she loved him because of that. That’s how true love is measured; love is there even on the worst days, when anger and frustration emerges and rants like a lunatic. She and I used to marvel at how the, very flawed, men we loved missed the best, most fun, parts of life by taking it too seriously, anticipating disaster.
I know her heart would hurt for her husband’s pain. She wouldn’t want him to be consumed by guilt. She’d want him to remember the fun they had. She’d want him to know, that she loved him for the person he was to her, that they were just right for each other.