Hello, Lisa!
With all due respect, your thinking on this sensitive matter is, in my humble opinion, a bit skewed. Although the feelings expressed in your poignant post is understandable, no man--or woman--is an island. Once a beloved spouse has passed, he or she is, quite plainly, dead, while you still have the rest of your life to live. We all go through a grieving process with varying lengths of time and intensity but it's not natural to carry on this process indefinitely. At some point, whether it's within a few months or over the course of several years, you will wake up one morning and realize that the sun still rises and that life will eventually call upon you to participate.
Of course, there will be no one like your husband; he was unique and forever will occupy a large part of your heart as long as you are alive. However, life does not always cooperate with our desire to take an emotional leave. If, for argument's sake, someone happens to appear in your horizon and finds himself smitten with you, do you really think that you can hold him at bay with your insistence at remaining a widow in perpetuity?
There is something inherently attractive, let alone romantic, about honoring a beloved spouse's memory by refusing to consider remarriage. The widow of Gen. George Armstrong Custer is among the most well known; her husband died in 1876 but she lived on until the second (or third) decade of the 20th century. She never doffed her "widow's habit" (the all-black garb of mourning) and wrote books about their life together before the Little Big Horn took that life away. It had become her life, subsuming her identity for the sake of her late husband, yet it's tantalizing to think of what direction her life could have taken if she had allowed love to enter her life again.
Another thing to consider is this: My ex-wife was the love of my life, someone who I considered to be my soul mate, and we had a happy marriage for a few years. Eventually, though, it ended, and we have both moved on with our lives. I still love her and she confides the same with me, but she has also made room for others, perhaps without the earlier fervency of our initial falling in love but enough to satisfy her need for companionship. The point of relaying this anecdote is that, yes, your husband is gone but, in a sense, his death has frozen the imagery of the time you spent together in an emotionally enhanced diaspora where the possibility of there being a life beyond it is non-existent. In other words, what if it was your marriage that had died instead of your husband? Would you wish to spend the rest of your life honoring its memory by not remarrying?
You ask if I, as an anonymous person responding to your post, would seek another relationship if my spouse had passed? Probably, but it's difficult to know for sure since my spouse is not dead. I cannot inhabit your shoes. However, the one thing that I would be mindful of is that it would be unfair for any potential partner to bear the onus of the memory of a deceases spouse. It's not anyone's job to replace another, even if that were possible. And although the departed spouse may have possessed certain characteristics that fit like the pieces in a jigsaw puzzle, it doesn't mean that others could not find their own special way to reach your heart. The heart has many byways; when a beloved spouse dies, one way is invariably closed but the others remain open. I would want to leave those fields open.
Incidentally, I am not responding to your post because of a promise of winning ten points; my satisfaction lies in the fact that my answer will be read, whether or not it is chosen as the best. It's enough for me.
Here is one last thing to consider: Entertaining the possibility of allowing another man in your life will not negate in any way the special bond you enjoyed with your husband. No one can overtake or lessen his memory if you don't allow it. On the other hand, no one has a monopoly on specialness; we all have our own particular brand that need not impede on the impact that one person has made.