Everyone tries to tell you that fairy tale love like Romeo and Juliet does not exist. They convince us that true love is a Cinderella story. I am here today to say they are completely wrong. I have found it. It is a wonderful story, but heartbreaking at the same time as this life dwindles down for the last survivor. 

I am not sure how the story starts but I can pick up in the middle. Her name was Tish, his name was Rick. They had known each other well for years growing up and living together in the small town of Stony Ridge.

Tish had been previously married to a wonderful man she loved. He had gone in for surgery and died due to a reaction of the anesthetic. She was left a widow. For a few years people had asked her to "go with" them, as my Uncle Rick put it. She told them there was only one good bachelor and he (Rick) was getting married. She refused anyone else and stayed a widow. 

Rick had been in a relationship with a women he cared deeply about. He helped put her through nursing school and catered her all around. They were soon married. She tried to change Rick to the point they divorced. She went on to marry a doctor and that relationship failed too. Uncle Rick was only married a year. 

Soon after that Tish and Rick started going with each other. Witnesses say they were definitely in love, you could see it on their faces, in their actions and feel it. Soon they started living with each other, "but slept in separate bedrooms". "I asked her every night for four years if she would marry me. She always said no. Then one night she said yes. I asked her if she realized she just ruined a perfect friendship...She said she had finally broken down after four years." They were married soon after and began a joyous life together.

They moved to Florida and had a great time. They came up to Ohio to be close to my Aunt Tish's mother, my great-grandmother. Here they built a house together. 

Aunt Tish had cancer. She had gone in for treatments, even had her hip replaced, but was always caring and wonderful to be around. Soon the cancer spread. Eventually it took her life. Every day since the day she passed on a few years back my Uncle Rick has mourned the loss of someone he loved.  T

Uncle Rick is much skinnier than I had ever seen him. I remember as a child how he was such a gentleman to Aunt Tish and how courteous he was to the family. He served her and treated her like an absolute princess. She was his entire world. I could see it every time. "You two were inseparable, you couldn't stick a piece of paper between you too" my father commented. He had just had back surgery was was doing surprisingly well. 

He opened our visit by looking at me directly and saying "Girl, you have gotten taller and prettier every time I see you. When are you getting married?" I joked telling him I was happily single. He began to talk to me and tell me about the sort of gentleman I should wait for. He said "Find someone that cares about you. Find someone that loves you. Find someone who you would do anything for and they would do anything for you. Find real love." Seems like pretty silly text book advice, but the look on his face was that of remembering the true love he had found with my Aunt Tish. He always had the greatest things to say to me about love. I believe him whole-heartedly on any advice he ever gave me. 

He then asked me if I know what "it feels like to lose the love of your life after 50 years?". He told me about his fathers death after his mothers death. "He couldn't live without her. He sat there after she died and refused to take his medicine. He died 13 hours after she did."

Recently, they put a pace maker in his heart. My family has done everything to keep him alive and becomes frustrated with him because he doesn't take his medicine. He said to us "I want to join her, but they somehow talked me into this." This being the pace maker. Tears welled up and rolled down his wrinkled face as he told me the story of his and Tish's life.

Its beautiful to see how even though she is no longer with us physically here, she has such a strong presense in his heart, he waits paitently every day until the day when he can see her again. Its beautiful, but sad. 

Its sad that we selfishly keep him here when he has done all he can, even begging God, yet we keep him for our own selfish desires. 

"I want to join her." 

Its that fairy tale love. The real life Romeo and Juliet. 

It has been a very long time since I have posted anything onto my site. I almost miss xanga. I usually start writing because something caught my eye or my mind but lately there hasn't been anything significant that it sticks when I write. hmm. It could also be the fact that there is SO much I want to write but nothing I want others to read. I can't remember my last public post.

I'm in the process of moving out of my small room to a house of my own shared with only my best friend. Everything seems to empty now. The pictures are down, the drapes cleaned off, the sheers put away. The lights been taken off and every shelf emptied. A stack of boxes sits on the far side. The only thing left full is my dresser and until the day comes that the house is ready, it will stay almost full. Two garbage bags, three boxes to goodwill and a pack of gum later, I sit feeling just as hollow and empty as the room yet full of delight and a new found energy.

I'm excited to finally go on my own and spread my wings. I'm excited to branch off and start a new chapter in my life. Still, I'm worried sick of this change. I don't handle change well and I'm so compulsive and obsessive, I can't let things go. I live so sheltered and protected but I'm opening myself up to the world and leaving myself so vulnerable. I'm afraid my fragile soul will be crushed and I won't have the strength to push through.

There are things I want in life but I have no ambition to do them. I take these "baby steps" but they feel like miles. I thought I was working on it by looking at the house or the mobile home before that, but really it was all in the process. It did nothing. Leaving, its so hard to say good bye to something you are so comfortable with. My comfort zone is small. I'm not used to taking chances or trying new things. I'm not good at understanding or having an open mind. I want a life of my own where I think and act on my own accord and am responsible for my actions. I have part of it.

I dream of this wonderful adventure and the way I'd like to run it or see it happen. My goals are simple yet make no sense to anyone else. God, I just need a really good kick in the bum.

I can say that I am truly blessed. I have wonderful jobs with people I like and who care about me and I care about them. Plus I make enough to sustain all my bills and then some. I have lovely friends who are always there for me and continue to push me out the door. I have a love life that is mild and content. I wish there was more of him in my life, but if I take things slow maybe my parents can adjust to us. No one knows because him and I are afraid it would cause this rift between our parents and ourselves. They have no control but we love our family and each other. Maybe by bringing out our wonderful friendship they can see that we were made for each other.

All together, I am beyond blessed. God loves me and that's that. He is not shy in showing it. I know he's with me every step and I pray that He won't kick my training wheels off too early.

So this is life. I'm scared.

wow = wonderful outside world

I saw a picture, well imagined one with very vivid details (one that I could never put onto a canvas).

Imagine:

A young boy, a young girl each sitting on opposite ends of a wooden bench over looking a small brick walkway and bridge over a muddy river, each with one arm proped up on the arm rest, faces sitting in their palms. He must have forgotten his shoes and sits barefoot with one overall hook undone, no shirt and a funny grin splashed on his face. The girl, sitting lady-like with her light sunday dress and sunday shoes, a pair of gloves in her hand protecting her sweet onward looking face, a white hat placed upon her head, also a slight grin to her face. Neither one is looking at the other. But, right in the middle of the bench, he holds her hand tight and she doesnt' let go.

Oh, if only you could see the picture painted in my mind and feel that glorious beat of my heart as it leaps through the air as to how I feel and wish I was the girl and he was the boy, in a small park, public, yet private enough. The silence is golden between us as we don't say a word and know exactly what the other one is thinking and feeling. He holds my hand tight and I can only stare at his face and feel his warmth.

There, I am happy, with him. Happy such as no other person has ever made me. With him, I am whole. Without him, I am nothing. I love him.