My mother, who has since passed away, was a very beautiful
and talented woman-even voted campus queen while in college at the University of Colorado. And she made an even more beautiful mother of four, married to my dad, an air force test pilot who died when his plane crashed while flying with the USAF Thunderbirds. She retained that beauty long after his death.

Yet my desirable mother didn't really believe she could ever find another man that could fill dad's shoes. I remember her saying in her later years, "I knew I could never find a man as good as your father. At least I was lucky enough to have 13 years with the man I loved because a lot of women never even have that."

Mom dated a lot of men after Dad died, and even remarried once, which was a total failure and she had it annulled six months later. Even though she remained very active, vital and attractive her entire life-all of her romantic relationships were doomed, and eventually she just gave up and chose to be alone.

Now back to my friend Lucy, also a very beautiful woman in her mid 50's. She too is successful, talented, vivacious, and loves life-but she truly believes she will never find a man as good as her husband and will most assuredly never find love again.

As Lucy continued to tell me her story of how wonderful she had it while her husband was alive...I kept thinking I don't think he's the only man in the world who has these qualities.

I asked Lucy, "Why do you believe there's not another man out there as good as your husband? And why do you believe you'll never be happy again?" She stopped crying and starred at me. Then I asked, "Who told you that? Where did that belief come from?"

I saw a light bulb go on over her head-it was a defining moment.

I said, "Lucy I don't think it's written anywhere that we're only allowed one love and one happiness, and I'm certain I never heard Oprah say it-so it's definitely not true."

But what I didn't realize was how much I had in common with Mom and with Lucy.

I didn't think I was in the same boat as them because my circumstances were different. I didn't feel "in love" with my husband before he died. The last six months were awful. My knight in shining armor had dissolved into a moody, obnoxious, angry and reclusive ass. I even considered telling him I wanted a divorce if he didn't get help, even though all I really wanted was my Prince Charming back.

Honestly, after getting over the traumatic and gut wrenching tailspin that he sent me into with his suicide, I was actually relieved, knowing his own suffering had ended too, and I was free, or so I thought.

Yet, as I drove home from the book fair I noticed myself wrestling with the memories of my mother and my own ability to love again. Although I have done a considerable amount of inner work on myself since my husband's death, which has brought peace and understanding to my life-something was still amiss.

I wondered why I was so content being alone for the last 11 years. Then came my epiphany, and as much as I hated to admit it-I realized I was just like my mother-refusing to believe I could ever or should ever love again. Lucy and I were mirrors of each other. All of the questions I asked her, I needed to answer as well.

My answers took me back to my childhood and the fairytales I heard. All the girls used to play the princesses by dressing up as Snow White, Cinderella, or Sleeping Beauty for Halloween, and they dreamed about the one and only prince who would come and take them away to live happily ever after. Although, I didn't want to give into all that schmaltzy girl stuff, I didn't think I had a choice-not if I wanted to be happy. And I am not aware of a single fairytale that talks about finding another Prince Charming after the first one dies.

Religion also played a huge part in my beliefs about love and happiness. And although I am no longer a practicing Catholic, I grew up like most Catholics - feeling guilty. The nuns in Sunday school were very big on the fourth commandment: Honor thy Mother and Father. And my interpretation of honoring your mother and father not only meant to obey them, but also to think like them, believe like them and act like them. Mom never found love again, so why should I?

And then there's the church's teaching of only one marriage. Even though a marriage that ends by death allows you the freedom to remarry in the church, the words "only one" and "for eternity" seemed to be a theme running inside my mind.

Also, I believed that maybe the women who did remarry happily never had those amazing knights in shining armor in the first place. Maybe their husbands weren't so great, and maybe Mom's mantra that it was impossible to find another man as "good" as my dad was pretty accurate.

But was my mother's, Lucy's or my husband really that much better or irreplaceable than those of these other women who remarried happily? No! What was different was their belief that they could love again.

I became consciously aware of the MANY reasons I resisted any kind of truly committed relationship. Could I ever find another man who would love me like my husband? Would I be abandoned again? Is it okay to let go of my husband's memory and completely give my heart to another? And when I was in a romantic relationship I felt like I was betraying the memory of my dead husband. Deep, deep down I believed I needed to honor his memory by never loving another.

So, I did my best to turn plenty of "knights" instead into one-night stands too afraid to take the plunge again. Because ultimately, there was a little voice in my head telling me, "You had your one chance at love, and now it's gone."

But my greatest epiphany has been realizing that all these excuses were just ways of justifying my fears, just like my mother. I was simply too afraid to try again.

Maybe it all boils down to just believing it's okay to love and be loved AGAIN.