That's an interesting idea, Monica! I've seen it in action before as well.
Laura, be warned - once you get into the golden age of Antarctic Exploration, you may find it as addictive as the
Titanic! Robert Falcon Scott is today best remembered for his heroic but failed attempt to reach the South Pole first (he was beaten by the brilliant Norweigan explorer Amundson). On the return from the South Pole, in March 1912, he and all other four men of his party perished. You might have heard before of one of the men, Captain L.E.G. Oates who - suffering from frostbite in his feet and unable to go any further - crawled out of the tent into a blizzard to try and give his colleagues a better chance of survival, murmering 'I am just going outside, and may be some time.' The letter I quoted above, written by Robert Falcon Scott ('Con' to his friends and loved ones) was written soon after, as he and the other two remaining members of the party lay waiting for death, a mere eleven miles from a depot of food and supplies that might have saved them. You'll find a lot of material on the expedition - here's a good site to start with that includes a rather good photo of Kathleen:
http://www.south-pole.com/p0000090.htm
There was an excellent recent biography of Scott by Sir Ranulph Fiennes that tackled some of the more scurrilous revisionism that Scott has been subjected to recently. His remarkable relationship with Kathleen is one of the most interesting aspects of his life and personality - he was a rather staid, formal, shy man - she was an extroverted, rather bohemian artist, a sculpter who studied under Rodin. And yet they loved each other very much. In his last letter he asked her to raise their son, Peter (named for Peter Pan, the creation of Scott's great friend) loving the natural world. His request was fulfilled, and Peter Scott became a reknowned naturalist.
When Kathleen died, she asked to have the words 'Kathleen. No happier woman ever lived' on her headstone. As Sara Wheeler has commented, 'What could be more heroic? Her biographer wrote of her that, 'She took hold of her life with a rare glee, and raced through it without shame, without fear and with scarcely a backward look.'
For a very different personality, who dealt with the loss of a loved one under monumentally tragic circumstances in a different way, we need look no further than the wife of Edward Wilson, Scott's second in command. He perished next to his leader on the return from the Pole. His wife was a dedicated, quiet, reserved woman named Oriana. Wheeler notes 'The cool, aloof Ory had never remarried. Her few close friends thought it would have been out of the question: "the loss of him clung to her."'
It's a deeply personal response, and I think unless we've lived it we don't necessarily what we'd do. The loss of our partner might cling to us, making the thought of remarriage impossible. Or, we might 'take the whole thing very sensibly' and move on...but doing so wouldn't mean a betrayal of the lost and loved. We might hold only a memory, but hold it 'for a lifetime.'