In the movie I watched last night, a man thanked his wife for loving him when the idea of someone loving him seemed so unlikely. They were only together four years when tragedy separated them, but those four years were enough, no, more than he ever expected. I had 37 years with my husband’s love and I thought, would four years have been enough to sustain me for the rest of my life? I’m thinking of a husband whose wife recently passed away after being married not quite two weeks. Was two weeks enough? How about a day? Would I have counted it a privilege to know my husband’s love for just one day? I know I wanted to be married, but pretty sure I wasn’t thinking about being loved. I know my parents loved me, but with a care-for love, not that I’m-the-most-special-person-in-the-world love. I would describe the love I had for my husband as deep-down love that you feel in your soul, but I can’t seem to recall what it felt like to be loved by him, nor can I decide which is greater, loving or being loved. Loving is an honor, being loved is being truly blessed.