I was thinking today about how everyone has a story. Everyone's life means something different to them, and something different even to the ones they come in contact with. Everyone is writing their own story as they go along living. Sometimes we are the hands that manipulate the pens and we write our own stories, sometimes we are the pens that are manipulated by God's hands. Sometimes people's stories even intertwine or become combined into one story. I think that was what happened to us. In our case, we were two different people with two different stories that met up at one very specific point in the tale and went on to intertwine, combine, mesh, and fuse into the same story, with each of us authoring one side, and the two sides creating the story of us.
The beginning of our story was beautiful, the end was tragic. It was truly like something straight from Shakespeare. If I had to decide what kind of story ours was, I would call it an epic love story. It wasn't a horror story, a comedy, or a fantasy. It wasn't a mystery, folk tale, or work of fiction. The theme that dominated our story, was Love, by far. There are many epic love stories that have claimed their places throughout the ages: Romeo and Juliet, Heathcliff and Catherine, Darcy and Elizabeth, and then some not-so epic-but-maybe-just-as-moving love stories: Edward and Bella (I know, I know), Robin Hood and Maid Marian, Wesley and Buttercup, Ross and Rachel.
Our story was truly among the greats. It was well written, bursting at the seams with real passion, real emotion, real struggles and real triumphs. It was epic in the sense that not just anyone and everyone could relate to what was happening to the characters individually or as a pair, but that everyone would want to, and that what we had together is the stuff that dreams are made on. And if our story gets told right, it will resound through generations of our own bloodline, and even possibly the generations of others.
And just like the other epic love stories, ours didn't end just because you left or because we were separated. It's still on-going, and it's still writing itself. I promised you a lot of things in our life together, and I'll promise you something now: I'll never stop being the pen, the paper, or the hand to our story-writing, and whatever the end turns out to be, I'll make sure that it is shelved away with all the other epics, right in its rightful place of course.
I love you so much, sweetheart, and I wish you were here to finish writing our story with me.