You remember the day that you saw her for the first time. Smiling that smile, kissing that kiss, holding your hands while dancing under the stars making memory pictures. You ask her to be your girlfriend, your wife, your everything. She said yes because she loves you so much that she doesn’t care you are messed up and difficult. You are happily holding her hands through life. Slowly you lose grip… not because you love her less or she loses interest, but because she is getting sick. Much sicker than before. You take care of her day in day out, loving her not any moment less. Her mental state is getting even more difficult than her physical, but you press on. Slowly she’s slipping away in that depressing world of disbelieve, losing friends, losing hope. You are still there, holding her hands until she loses the strength to hold yours. The light is fading from her eyes and the girl you love slowly dies spiritually. An everlasting process of dying.
When you open your eyes with this realization, you see that she’s still alive, still breathing, still fighting. You love her not a bit less, you’re proud even. Tired you lose the world around you. Now you are the one who fails to hold on. But then she looks into your eyes with that smile, that kiss, holding your hands like she did a long time ago. You find new strength because now she is the strong one. Knowing she finds strength in you loving her. Still feeling alone, you are happy knowing you made the right choice loving her. Fighting with her through this life. Hoping and dreaming for a better future.
I love you not until Lyme, but to the far beyond.