Is It Really Better to Have Loved Then Lost? Exploring the Timeless Debate

"Is it really better to have loved and lost?" This question often surfaces in moments of quiet reflection, especially when the weight of loss feels nearly too much to bear. The famous line, penned by Alfred, Lord Tennyson in In Memoriam, captures a timeless debate: when we've loved so profoundly and then face the heartache of losing that love, we naturally wonder if the joy of love was worth the pain of its absence.

In my own journey, after losing my beautiful daughter, Jenna, this question became deeply personal. Early on, in the midst of unimaginable grief, I remember talking to God in my mind, wrestling with the seeming cruelty of having loved her so deeply only to have her taken from me. But then came a whisper—a question: Would you have chosen not to have her, knowing she’d be with you for only 14 years? In an instant, I knew the answer without hesitation: absolutely not, I would have chosen to have her, over and over again. She was, and forever will be, a gift.

This realization, that it was all a gift, transformed my life. Even in her absence, Jenna remains an integral part of my every day; I speak to her, I write to her, I share my every emotion with her. She has become a pillar of love, meaning, and purpose—a presence that shapes my journey through grief, love, and healing. And so, perhaps, for those of us who have loved deeply, the answer to Tennyson’s question isn’t as elusive as it may first seem. For me, the gift of love remains worth every moment, even amid the pain that follows.

Is It Really Better to Have Loved Then Lost? — My Journey Through Grief and Love

Grief as a Lifelong Companion

In those early days, I hoped that one day, somehow, grief might subside, allowing me to return to a semblance of normalcy. But I’ve since learned that grief doesn’t simply fade—it transforms. Today, grief is woven into my life, a quiet companion that has become part of who I am. Sometimes it hums softly in the background; other times, it swells unexpectedly, a reminder of all that was. Yet, with each moment, I’ve come to see grief as a testament to my love. If I hadn’t loved Jenna so profoundly, the grief wouldn’t be so deeply rooted in my heart. This understanding has reshaped my view of loss, allowing me to see that the depth of my sorrow reflects the depth of my love.

Over time, I’ve come to realize that love itself is the fabric of our lives. It’s not just a fleeting feeling or a simple connection; love is what makes life rich, full, and beautiful. It’s in the daily acts of kindness, in the moments of shared laughter, and in the quiet presence we offer each other. Love weaves its way through every experience, forming the threads that hold our lives together, even when those we cherish are no longer physically present. My love for Jenna continues to bring meaning and purpose to my life, filling even the empty spaces that loss leaves behind.

This realization has helped me see that love, in all its forms, is what makes life worth living. It gives depth to our joys and meaning to our sorrows. Grief, I now understand, is just love that has nowhere to go, a reminder that every cherished memory and every aching moment is part of a life richly lived. The pain of loss, as difficult as it is, reflects the profound beauty of having truly loved, and I wouldn’t trade that for anything.

The Emotional Journey of Love and Loss

Debunking Myths About Love and Loss

Myth: “Time Heals All Wounds”

One of the biggest misconceptions I encountered after Jenna’s passing was the belief that time heals all wounds. So many well-meaning people suggested that with enough time, I would somehow "get past" the pain. But I’ve learned that we don’t simply get past our losses; they become part of who we are. Time alone doesn’t heal wounds—it's what we do with the time that truly matters. Healing from grief requires intention. It’s an active journey of facing the heartache, allowing ourselves to feel every emotion, and giving space for grief to be fully acknowledged.

Time, on its own, is passive. Had I waited for it to “heal” me, I might still be lost in that same darkness. Instead, I chose to lean into my grief, honoring Jenna’s memory by embracing the pain as a reflection of my love for her. True healing isn’t about leaving the past behind; it’s about learning to carry both love and loss together, in a way that honors them both. Grief and love have become threads in the fabric of my life, woven together in a way that reminds me of the profound gift it is to have loved, even when that love is touched by loss.

Myth: “Never Talk About the Deceased”

Another myth I encountered was the belief that avoiding conversations about Jenna would somehow make the pain easier to bear, help me heal faster, or make me feel uncomfortable around other people. But I believe silence only deepens the sense of isolation. What I found was that talking about Jenna—sharing her stories, remembering her smile, and celebrating her life—became one of the most healing acts for me and my family and it helped others feel more comfortable around us.

Today, Jenna is very much a part of our lives. Before every soccer game her sisters play, we write in the family group chat, “123 JENNA,” a ritual that honors her presence on the field, knowing she’s watching over them, helping to keep them safe and cheering them toward victory. We also gather in her memory each year for our hersmile.org annual memorial golf tournament, a day dedicated to celebrating love, laughter, and community in her honor. These acts of remembrance allow us to keep Jenna’s memory alive in ways that feel both tangible and comforting.

In Tennyson’s In Memoriam, he pours his grief into words, keeping his friend Arthur Henry Hallam’s memory alive through poetry. This act of remembrance is not only about honoring those we’ve lost—it’s also a way of healing ourselves, keeping their love woven into the fabric of our daily lives.

Myths and Realities of Grief and Healing

Navigating Life After Loss: Better to Have Loved Then Lost

 Living life after loss is a process of adaptation. There are no easy answers to the question, Is it really better to have loved then lost? But I’ve come to believe that, yes, it is better. The pain of losing someone I loved is real and raw, but the memories and the experiences I shared with them were worth it. I wouldn’t trade those moments for anything, even though it meant facing the heartbreak of their absence.

For me, it’s not about "moving on" from the loss. It’s about integrating it into my life in a way that allows me to continue living fully. The love I lost didn’t disappear — it transformed. It became part of who I am, shaping how I see the world and how I relate to others. There’s a bittersweet beauty in that transformation, in knowing that the love I had will always be a part of me, even as I continue to live without that person by my side.