This is not a story of love, or of friendship. This is our story, a story of an emotion deeper than anyone has ever felt before, a story that connects us through heart, mind and spirit. People often say things like "words cannot describe the way I feel about you" and "a thousand words could not begin to explain how much you mean to me." It's different for us. I only need a single word to sum up what you mean to me: everything. This is a tale of endless devotion across time, across space, across lives. This is our story.
When we were eight we roamed out into the forest near your house and planted an acorn. Every day after school we were eager to rush out to check on it, give it water and plenty of love. It took ten years to grow into an oak tree big enough to climb. We had grown with it. Time had changed us more than it had to the tree.
We were eighteen when we kissed for the first time. We ran out into the forest together to the tree and carved our names side by side in its trunk. You looked at me at that moment and smiled. Only then did time feel like it was at a standstill. We were stuck in the moment, gravitating towards each other while the world around us continued breathing. Nature had never felt more beautiful.
You proposed to me in our mid-twenties outside of the restaurant we had gone to for the after party of my friend's wedding. You kissed my hand, smiled at me and told me we could build a house in the forest near the oak tree. I accepted and we set to work planning the wedding and the house the very next day.
It wasn't until we were thirty when nature revealed to me the deadly crimes it was capable of. Our first and only child was born premature. We got no sleep the night our baby daughter was born. I only got to hold her once and you never before the doctors carried her away. She died the following day.
We both decided we couldn't suffer the pain of another loss and gave up. There were no children or pets in our house. All we had was the garden, our oak tree and each other. You had a sudden desire to play the piano. We invested in one and put it in the hallway to the dining room. Every morning you practiced, the sound your fingers made pressing the keys flowed elegantly.
Birds were attracted by the noise. They came into our garden in the mornings to listen and sing along. Time passed and we grew older. Everything we did was at a comfortable pace, nothing rushed or hasty. We were both starting to slow down. However, it wasn't until we were in our seventies that nature truly took its toll on us.
You were diagnosed with cancer. I sat on a chair beside your hospital bed and told stories from when we were younger. I spoke of home, growing the oak tree, our garden with the singing birds and described the gentle sound of your piano. You listened, unspeaking, with a smile on your face. You were smiling when you died.
I put in my will for them to bury my ashes next to yours under the oak tree. Beautiful, deadly nature has an important role to play. I just wanted to tell our story before it does its job of recycling the old. Finally, I will be able to retire under the leaf litter with you, where we will be together for all eternity. Our story has ended in this world for both of us and our eternal heartbeat will be carried into the next.
