You know love when you see it. And they had it. They didn't have anyone or anything else but each other, but that didn't matter, because they loved each other, truly. People toss around that word to much. But for them, it was actual, real, love, it was beautiful and strong and full of life.They would do anything for each other, they were always in each others minds, their hands, always clasped. When they saw each other, they found happiness, and together, they were a piece of art. They came to represent love itself to me. I always expected them to be together, because thats what they were. They were love. And they gave each other hope.
But that's not the way it works. They were ripped apart by the most permanent separation of all, death. One minute there, the next gone. Just... gone. Not for now. Ever. Never again would he hear her voice or see her smile or feel her lips against his. Or see the light in her eyes. Her eyes: determined. Insistent. Beautiful.
Their last moments, I realize now, were some of their best. Just when they realized on such a profound level how much they loved each other, and just when there was hope for them to start a real, happy life together, darkness came. But in those last hours- they kissed and they laughed and they felt the warmness of each other's skin. It makes me so sometimes unbelievably sad when I think about these final moments, because of what was to come, but it also makes me smile to remember how much they meant to each other.
For a long time, I was so angry. Why did it have to be this way? Why? Why did she have to go? Why did they have to feel that pain? Why did such happiness have to be destroyed? And I would sometimes just plead to, I don't know, God, that she would come back, and smile and look into his eyes as he looked into hers and everything would be good.
My body and my mind still gets heavy when I think about it. Because I didn't just lose her that day, I lost him, because his grief did scar him. Permanentley. But I knew her, and I know him. And I know just because she isn't there, her hand in his, that doesn't mean she doesn't still love him, and he doesn't love her. That is something so strong, so real, that it can never be broken.
Pain exists. But love is stronger. Especially for them.
And I will never forget.