A Love Story

Love exists, love blooms, the kind of romantic sweep you off your feet kind of love. I was fortunate to be a witness of a love like that. My father fall in love with my mother the first time he saw her. He told her that she will be his wife. When she heard his statement,she laughed. Their love affair went on for almost sixty years. They were married for richer and poorer and they built a beautiful life. There were times my father would sing or read poetry out loud to my mother. He would write her poems and send her flowers. He was charming in more ways than I can describe. As I am writing this post, I am crying as I remember,the last time I saw my dad alive. I was visiting my parents, my dad was helping my mother up from her chair and he embraced her tightly. Then in a joyous tone in his voice he said,"I love this woman. To me she is still the same girl I fall in love with." I looked at my mom and said,"you are a lucky woman!" because I knew that my dad meant it.That vision stayed with me. My father was my mothers care taker in the last two years of his life. He would not complain. He would do more than we knew for her, and even though it was difficult he made it seem effortless. They were best friends and true partners. They would laugh and they would argue. They were everything to each other. They would hold hands and whisper sweet nothings. As I ache today, I stop and think how lucky I am. I am lucky that I was a part of the love that they had for each other. I am lucky that I watched a great love story unfold.