Remembering (Blame It On Spring) Poem by Practicing Poetess

I've had some puppy-loves,
Too many crushes,
Plenty of emotional entanglements.
But when it comes to REAL love,
Mature love- - the Real Mc Coy,
I've only had two of those.
The first one was Gerry
A Catholic with an Irish mum,
And a French father.
She wanted to call him Sean,
But his Dad said
It would make the poor kid schizoid
With a French surname.
So, they settled on 'Gerard'.
But whenever baby Gerry slept,
His mum would whisper in his ear,
'Your REAL name is Sean.'
I was very young and beautiful then
Idealistic, trusting, and full of hope.
I would have followed Gerry to Timbuktu, or Kathmandu!
But, ultimately, he married someone else.
It shattered my heart in a million tiny fragments.
Many years (and mistakes) later, I met Ed
A plain man who wasn't handsome.
He didn't make my heart pound like Gerry had.
But he turned out to be
The most wonderful man I've ever known, thus far.
His eyes lit up whenever he looked at me.
He was tender and kind, always smiling
Always told me how much he appreciated me.
Called me his girl.
Held me gently, as though I were a priceless crystal vase.
Asked me, 'Will you be my wife? '
And then, he died of cancer.
It's been said, ' 'Tis better to have loved and lost,
Than never to have loved at all.' **
Is it?
I want more than only memories.
You can't hug a memory.