The picture is from 1989. I found it yesterday in an album; I hadn't seen it for a number of years. We had been married and living together for at least six months before we actually had our wedding ceremony...the delay was mainly for logistical reasons. The picture is from the middle of our honeymoon trip that we started a few days after the ceremony.

In our hotel room in Papeete before heading out for the day

It is hard for me to look at this photo and not feel terribly nostalgic. Being so young and happy and optimistic and so much in romantic love.

We are both 26 in this picture, and my wife passed away when she was 40, but this post is not about that, at least, as much as I can separate what I feel about different types of love from my specific feelings of missing her.

I did eventually remarry, to a wonderful woman who I also loved (and still do...she is my current wife). And she loves me. I was overall happy being married the first time, so I think it was only natural that I be open to remarrying, and I was fortunate to find a second someone who would take this weirdo that I am (and my three children) into her heart and choose to make a life with me (us).

But even if my first wife was still alive, it is inevitable that love matures and evolves. The realities of raising children and finances and responsibilities and obligations inevitably turns life from a fairy tale into ...well, life.

I have no way to know, but if my wife in the picture above was still here and 61, would she still snuggle in tight for a photo, cheek to cheek, one arm draped over my shoulder and the other carelessly resting on my leg? Well, perhaps she would, because I have noticed that in photos of the two of us, she *always* is holding my arm or touching my shoulder or otherwise making physical contact with me...she was very good at just naturally posing in an unforced, intimate manner.

But momentary photos aside, I know from the 14 years that we did spend together that of course we were not the same young lovey-dovey newlyweds at 39 that we were at 26. And I know that is the natural course of things.

But I really enjoyed that time, that kind of love. The yearning when apart, the pleasure of shopping for a special romantic gift, the love letters, the affectionate nicknames, leaving silly notes on the kitchen table before going off to work...I do have to admit it makes me sad that I won't experience that sort of love again.

There is nothing stopping me from doing similar things now, other than the fact that my current wife is a different individual with her own style and desires and needs, and most of those things would evoke eye rolls more than a smile. Romantic, playful love is not really on her menu, if I am frank. And that is OK, because our love is no less genuine...it is just different...calmer, maybe. The product of a different time of life, different circumstances.

But I guess I am lucky to have been so lucky, twice.