Fears...

Dear Charming, 

You've been home for over two months now... it's hard to believe that you've been home longer than you were in the hospital. In fact, it's hard to believe that you've been home longer than you were in a coma. For fifteen days, the world just stopped. At least, my world did. Everything since has been a blur, in slow motion... 

I write this tonight because I realize that everything that I experienced in those weeks that you were in the hospital didn't just magically go away when you came home. We are on a journey here... one that began that fateful day, and still continues. Knowing your hatred for hospitals and doctors, I don't honestly know what keeps you going back twice a week for therapy, but I'm glad that you are doing it. I can't imagine the terror of stepping out of your home one day to go to work, and then waking up in a hospital being told you almost died. Coma. That's a big thing. An experience that few people go through, and even fewer survive to tell the tale of. I don't know what to make of the fact that through the fog that you are sure you could hear me singing. So many moments I stood by your bed, wondering if you could feel me or hear me... wondering if it was making a difference. 

No, I certainly don't know what you went through... and you don't know what I went through, either. You are my life... it's hard to think I went through this life-changing event with you and yet without you, at the same time. When faced with time apart, you and I don't go more than two waking hours, if that, without some form of contact... a phone call, a text message, an email... something that reaches out to the other. When you were still in the hospital, I found an email from August where you said you wanted to start working out and get healthy because you couldn't imagine leaving the kids and me behind... it comforted me to know that you would want me fighting to keep you here, that you weren't ready to go. It also saddened me, because at that time, things were very uncertain and I knew you didn't want to go... it broke my heart to think that you could be ripped away from us. It's hard to go through something was so big without being able to talk it out with your best friend... you were there... close, and yet so far away. I couldn't ask your advice... or curl up in the bed just to be near you. I slept in a tiny chair in the corner of a freezing cold room... because I couldn't bear to be anywhere else. 

I created this blog to chronicle the journey... and hopefully beyond it. To look back and say "we survived this" and turn the page and start writing of all our little journeys together from here on out. I have been lax, I admit, in doing this since you came home. The early days were spent taking care of you... a lot of ups and a few downs. I've come to realize that as much as you are dealing with depression, so am I... You are faced with your own mortality... and my youth and innocence have been ripped away. In short, I'm scared, Charming. You and I always knew that, one day, one of us would have to face this world without the other. This isn't Hollywood... rarely do couples lay down together in their bed when they are ninety, fall asleep in each other's arms, and never wake up. Having such little exposure to death at a young age, it has always scared me. The unknown. Not that I was scared to die. But, there are so many ways that someone can die, my fear has always been: how am I going to go and is it going to hurt? We all march towards the same inevitable end, Charming... no getting around it. Is it going to hurt? To think of your last conscious moment being in the street, in pain... just the thought of it still bothers me. 

My youth and innocence? I'm getting to that... when we decide to spend our lives with someone you always know there will come a day when they have to live without you, or vice versa. You and I used to joke... you'd catch a cold and joke that I'd feel bad about it if you died. I'd tell you that you weren't dying... and it wasn't going to be a problem, because I planned on going first anyway. "I'm out of here next Thursday," I'd laugh. You know it's going to happen someday... but when you are young, that "day" seems so far off in the future... very Scarlett O'Hara "I won't think about it today... I'll think about that tomorrow..." you know it's there... but you picture being in your 80's when that day comes. I always did. (And let me tell you, I BETTER be in my 90's before I have to deal with it again!!) "We'll be old and gray..." you think. You never think it could be now... it could be today. That playful youthful innocence is gone... that "day" will come... and it feels very real. No longer a far off image of someday... I've had a momentary glance at what that day could look like.. could FEEL like... and I'm terrified. Not just a little scared... but paralyzed with fear. I feel like I barely survived this... I'm ashamed say I almost didn't survive this. The only thing that kept me putting one foot in front of the other was that you weren't completely gone. And it didn't matter what any doctor told me... or what statistics on websites said... as long as you were alive, there was hope... I gave rousing speeches to our kids about how we weren't going to give up until you came home. I admit, these speeches were more to convince me than to convince them. I'm sure one day they will tell stories to their own kids about how "solid" I was during this time. Someday I'll get to be their rockstar mom who never lost hope or gave up. In reality, I was a mess... it frightens me to think that someday I could be served up the real thing... that this was just the dress rehearsal. One day, Charming, one of us will have to face the world without the other... I pray to God that it's not me. 

I love you,

Snow

I miss you...

Dear Charming, 

I don't think I can put it any more plainly than that. I just miss you. I miss us. 

Today, I was only able to spend a half an hour with you. The entire time, you tried to push me away and out the door. I read somewhere that patients with brain injuries only have a superficial awareness of their injuries, and don't realize how bad it really is. All you know right now is that I'm not there now. I want you to know that I tried. I tried so hard. Every second I spend away from you kills me. The fact that you are more cooperative with me not there just eats away at my soul. I want to be there with, I wish you'd let me be. I know that your memory of this phase will probably be minimal. For that, I am thankful. 

I wish that you understood that your time in rehab is out of my hands. With the severity of your brain injury, they won't send you home without doctor consent. They can't legally send you home until the doctor deems it safe, because you could hurt yourself. My hands are severely tied. You told me today that the old me would have been in there fighting to get you out of there. Please understand that I AM fighting for you. Every breath I have taken in the last six weeks has been for you. For us. You are my everything. My entire world. It is painful that you don't yet realize how bad your injuries were. That you don't realize just how close I am came to losing you, losing the love of my life, my soul mate. What you and I have is so special. Our connection to one another, unlike anything I've ever seen. You don't how scared I was or the countless hours I spent at your bedside talking to you. When I ran out of things to say, I would read to you. Peaceful Warrior. When you were in your coma, I thought to myself that if you were able to hear me reading to you, that's the story you'd want to hear. Sometimes I would sing to you. You always wanted me to sing to you... but I was always afraid. Now here I was, my head on your chest, my fingers laced in yours and I was singing. Scared out of my mind that you would never come back to me. Every breath I take, I am fighting for you. When I was told you would never come back to me, I fought for you. I fought for us. My belief in you and in our love was the only thing that kept me going. Please don't think I am not on your side, or that I'm not in there fighting for you. Someday I hope you realize just how hard I am fighting. Fighting for you. Fighting for us. Trying to keep it together for the sake our kids. Failing miserably at not falling apart in front of them. Fighting to keep my sanity in tact, because without you at my side I am so lost. 

The Nurse's Aid in ICU told me  the day that you were transferred out of ICU and onto the regular trauma floor "someday he's going to be SO proud of you and how strong you were." I told her that I hoped so, and hoped that someday that you would thank me for believing in our love even when things looked so grim. She told me you would. "But not today," I smiled, trying to be upbeat. She said, "no, you are a long way off from that." 

I cried today. Not a real shocker. I cry every day. When we lost Niles I remember thinking it would be a relief when I could get through a day without crying. I have cried every day for the last six weeks. For the first three weeks, you were in ICU. It's hard to imagine that double that time has now passed. When you were in ICU, I did my best not to cry in front of you. Unsure of how much you could hear and feel, I tried to be positive. This is why I read and sang to you, I found that when I just tried to talk you that I would break down and cry uncontrollably. In the two days a week I spent alone at home with the kids, I tried not to cry in front of them, either. I failed there, too. I don't think it was a secret to anyone that I was falling apart inside. 

Three weeks to the day after the accident, you were transferred to the regular trauma unit. You were no longer in "critical condition." You still slept 80% of the time, but getting out of ICU had been a huge victory. You were in a regular room now, you had a bathroom of your own. Because there was a shower in your room, I no longer needed to go home to shower. I was brought a chair that pulled out into a flat bed. I no longer had to sleep in a chair in the corner of your ICU room. I was no longer kicked out during nurse shift changes. In short, I could spend all my time with you. Even though when you were awake, you thought you were at home and you kept me up all night talking and calling for Skyler, I was thrilled that I could spend most of my time with you. I "celebrated" this little victory by getting myself some nasty cafeteria mac and cheese and a piece of chocolate pie. I walked down to the corner where there was a Dollar General and bought myself some soap, shampoo and a towel. I was prepared to be there for the duration. I would video chat with the kids and that kept me in contact with them. You'd hear their voices and then get mad that they weren't there when you called for them. One night you were so sure my mom was there and were so mad that she wouldn't come over to the bed and talk to you later that night. You'd tell me the dog was barking in the hallway. It was a scary time, I was finally understanding just how bad the damage to your brain was. I could only pray that you would continue to improve and not plateau. 

Then there were moments when you were so sweet. The very last night that we spent at Lakeland Regional was Mom's birthday. I had spent the morning with my parents and the kids and had gone to get you some veggie nuggets. I had promised you something special. When I got in you were in a good mood. You'd still get upset when you'd ask for your razor and I didn't understand why I kept telling you it wasn't there. Still, when I looked at you, I could feel YOU, the essence of you, looking back at me. I went down to the cafeteria and microwaved our nuggets. And we sat in bed, listening to music. You mouthed the words to some of our favorite songs. We watched The Big Bang Theory. You made polite conversation with the nurse. We snuggled for a long time, just holding onto each other. "This is nice," I mumbled into your chest. "Nice?" you scoffed. "You don't even know. Nice doesn't even cover it. This is... sustaining. It's replenishing." I was in heaven. You would ask me occasionally to look up things that didn't exist on YouTube "look up New England Patriots Yankee Pot Roast" you'd say. Heaven help me, I would actually try to look it up for you. Still, you were in a good mood and we were holding onto each other. I was in heaven. 

Halloween I got the call that you being moved to rehab in Winter Haven. I was overjoyed!! We were moving to rehab!! Dr. Benjamin came in to check on you. He was the same doctor who had told me that you were in a vegetative state and that I needed to think about what I wanted to do: Pull the plug or look for nursing homes for you. I gave him a smug, victorious little smile. You told me the other day that you need a victory, what you don't realize is that every day you are here to fight IS a victory. A bigger victory than you know. 

You started getting restless, demanding to go home before transport came to get you. It was a sign of things to come. When we got to rehab my world was flipped upside down again. No television, because they wanted your brain to get as much rest as possible and the stimulation would be too much. The lights would be off. There would be a 24 hour sitter watching your every move. I could feel the panic attack come on, my throat began to close. "Are you ok? You seem frustrated," you asked. I explained that I was just upset that you were hurt and I didn't like seeing you in a hospital bed. You continued to demand to go home, getting more and more agitated by the moment. I was told that if you continued to persist with demanding to go home that they would ask me to leave, so that you could get some rest. At the elevator, Mom asked me if I was ok. I fell apart, nearly collapsing. In fourteen years, we had not spent a night a part before your accident. In the 4 weeks that you were at Lakeland Regional, I had spent a night home here and there for the sake of our kids, but I never stayed gone for more than one night, refusing to miss more than one nurse shift change. I'd go home, eat, take a shower, watch a movie with the kids and then I'd be back bright and early the next day. I refused to be gone one second longer than I had to be. Now they were telling me that they didn't think that it was a good idea that I stayed. Your time in rehab was necessary, there was nothing I could do to change that. I couldn't bear it. I felt sick. I felt worse than sick. I felt like my soul was being ripped from my body. My only solace was that you wouldn't be there long. My only thought and my only focus now is getting you better so that I never have to let go of you again. I never want to sleep without you next to me again. So here's to a lifetime of never having to spend the night apart again. 

I love you 

Snow

Veteran's Day blues....

Dear Charming, 

It's Veteran's Day... and we both know what that means. It's Piper's birthday. 

In speech therapy, one of the main goals is to orient you to person, place and time. Which means that, every day, they tell you what day it is... over and over and over. I warned your therapist that on this day she may want to skip orienting you. Tell you it's November. Tell you it's 2013. But do not tell you that it's the 11th and do not tell you that it's Veteran's Day, because if you are able to make that connection in your brain, it WILL upset you. Not might. It definitely will. I knew this day would be especially hard for you... 

I'm trying to muster everything in me to focus on Piper and her special day... but I find it hard to be in the mood for celebrating. I ordered her a cake. We usually make the cakes for the kids together. Ordering the cake, I thought I was doing the sensible thing. "With all of this going on, I don't have the time to make a cake," I reasoned. But with you in rehab, and my not being able to spend the night with you, I realize that I could have made her cake, if I had felt up to it. The truth of the matter, Charming, is this: I couldn't face doing it without you. Part of me was scared to. Afraid I'd mess it up without you there to help me. Mostly though, I just couldn't bear doing it without you here with me. 

What am I so afraid of? You are alive... and even though you aren't home with me tonight, as I wish you were, I know you will be soon. If I can't muster up enough courage for even the simplest of tasks like baking a cake for our daughter, knowing you are alive and recovering, I can't imagine how I would have carried on had I lost you. 

Do you remember the day she was born? I remember you going down to the gift shop and coming back with a pink teddy bear that was bigger than I am. Sweet Piper Céline. Beautiful from the moment she was born. I remember the nurses and doctors pulling you aside and the only word I could hear them say was "hands." Panicked, I asked you what was wrong. You remained calmed, so as to not alarm me. Our beautiful little princess had six fingers on each hand, the extra digit had no bones going through and so could be easily removed later. You were always my strength and my rock. You stayed calm for me, even though I know you were screaming inside. Seven months later, I clutched an M&M's teddy bear in the bathroom of a hospital, not so unlike the hospital I spent 4 weeks with you at, crying as our infant daughter was taken into surgery. I mentioned before it's funny what qualifies as a tragedy before real tragedy hits you. An hour later, she was back in our arms, as if nothing had happened. Bandages on her hands were the only sign that the polydactyl digits had once been there. Today, tiny scars mark where they once were. Unnoticeable unless you are looking for them. 

I posted a birthday message on facebook on both our behalf for her. Sobbing and falling apart as I typed, it hit me that I didn't order her cake out of a lack of time to one for her. I did it for me. I knew this day could be potentially hard for you. Knowing you are alive and you are slowly coming back to me, I had underestimated just how unbearably hard this day would be for me. 

Over the last month and a half, you have occupied nearly every waking thought. My focus has been on you, whether you'd survive, and then when you did survive, what would the journey ahead look like in getting you back to us. There has been no place too far for me to go, or no measure to extreme in saving you.  When you transferred to rehab and I realized that I would no longer get to sleep with you every night, I fell apart. The fact that you get so agitated and demand to go home that I can only spend a couple of hours with you at the most at a time has been extremely difficult for me. I miss you. Much more than you will ever know. I've bee assured that you won't remember this... but I will. Every tear that has fallen, I will remember. The devastation of almost losing you, the joy when you came out of the coma, to the heartbreak of how little time I have gotten to have with you since you entered rehab. I will remember it all. 

And now here we are, November the 11th. Piper's birthday. I know I should be focusing on that, but it doesn't feel right without you here with us. It's not fair. This is as much our special day as it is hers. I am praying for strength. I can't do this without you. 

I love you 

Snow

With this ring...

Dear Charming, 

Today, you took back your wedding rings. I had bought a chain for you to wear your rings because you were between sizes. Having lost weight, you were unable to wear the new ring that I had given you for our anniversary, but were still unable to wear your original wedding ring. The chain had arrived the week of the accident and, if memory serves me, that fateful Wednesday morning had been the first day that you had put them around your neck. They had been handed back to me when I arrived at the ICU, in a little plastic bag along with your ID and credit card.

In a daze, I removed the chain from the bag and placed it around my neck. And there it remained every day since. I couldn't bear to take them off. In times when I was feeling helpless, I would find myself playing with them, slipping them onto my fingers or sliding them up and down on the chain. They were my direct link to you. My lifeline. Connecting me to your heart and to our love. 

Today, you asked me to put them back around your neck. I am happy that you want them with you, and thrilled that now you have that same connection close to you. I hope that when I am not with you, that you find yourself doing the same thing I did, touching them and feeling my love for you. Rings are circles. They have no end. They are the perfect symbol for love. 

Truthfully, now that you have them with you, I feel a little naked. On my way to the store tonight, I reached for them, wanting to feel you with me. I had forgotten they were no longer around my neck. Over the past several weeks, they became a part of me. 

It's hard to leave you at the hospital. A weaker me would have signed you out and brought you home at the first sign of struggle. There are moments when you are so lucid and make so much sense, that if I didn't know better I wouldn't believe there was anything wrong with you. Then you ask me for the keys to your airplane, ask me why Skyler stayed out a bar all night last night, ask me who the green-bearded man is that I've been seeing and tell me that you fired half the staff that morning and I'm brought back into reality. I want you home. I need you home. It had been my intention to stay with you every night now that you are in rehab. But, you get so agitated and demand to go home when I'm there that the nursing staff agrees it's best that I don't. For a couple who had not slept a night apart in 14 years, this has been hell for me. I can't even describe the horror of it all. In the last month and a half, I feel like I've aged ten years. 

They tell me that at this stage of the healing process that you don't have the ability to understand the severity of your injuries or the impairments it has caused and that I have to be the strong one. I find this extremely accurate. After the horror we dealt with when your dad died, if you did understand the severity of it, you'd freak out. There have been a couple moments when you do seem to get it. For the most part, however, the word coma is just that to you; a word. Someday, I hope that you understand why I didn't let you come home the first time you asked to. There is nothing I want more. Handing my trust over to nurses and doctors who know more than I do is difficult when all I want is for you to be home, snuggled up in our bed with me. How I've missed you. I wake up several times a night, my heart aching to be near you. I have to trust that they know what's best and when it will be safe for you. Barring no complications, one more week. One more week and we can be together. And I will never let you go again...

I love you

Snow

"I cannot live without you, and I don’t intend to bloody well try ever again. You are my inspiration, my hope, my whole hope, the oxygen in my blood"

Laurence Olivier to Vivien Leigh, Paris 1945

Awakening...

Dear Charming,

Two days after being told you were in a vegetative state, I went home to spend an evening with our kids. I kissed the top of your head and told you to fight your way back to me. I can't count the times that I had done this. I set up a CD player with a CD of our songs so that even when I wasn't in the room, which was almost always, you could feel my presence. I called the hospital often to check on you only to be told that you were ok, but there had been no change.

Discouraged, I went to bed sobbing. "Please give me a sign that I'm doing the right thing," I begged. You and I had very explicit instructions with each other. If ever something were to happen to one of us, if we'd never come back, don't hold on. But if there was a chance, fight on. I never in a million years believed that I would have to make that kind of decision. Never did I dream that that promise I once made you would be put to the test. Now I had a doctor telling me that you were in a vegetative state, and even though I knew he was wrong, I needed to know I was doing right by you. I knew in my heart you wouldn't want to leave us, but was I holding on for me, or was I doing the right thing for you? I had told the doctor if I had to wheel you on to It's a Small World for the rest of my life, I was prepared to do it... so long as you were here, knew me and our kids and could live a fulfilling life and be an active part of ours. "Please give me a sign." I spent several evenings during the nurse shift change at the hospital crying in the chapel. Now here I was at home with our kids, falling apart and begging for anything to hold onto so that I knew I was doing the right thing.

Day twelve, I awoke exhausted. Having cried myself to sleep, I tossed and turned. Instinctively, I reached for my phone and dialed TICU. Jennifer, your nurse for the day, answered the phone. "How's my sweetheart?" I asked, trying to sound as upbeat as possible. "He's moving," she told me. They had sat you up to change the position in the bed, and you had started moving your legs... very purposefully. You fought to get the podus boot off. You'd cross your legs to make yourself more comfortable. No, you weren't awake... no, you weren't talking. However, you were showing signs of higher brain function.... Message received. I fight on.

On day 15, the physical therapist called out your name and past the trach in your throat, you spoke... "What?" You were waking up. I had yet to hear you talk for myself, but when I would ask you for a kiss, you would pucker up your lips for me. Your eyes remained closed, but it was the start of something. The next night, after the nurse shift change, I was about to change into my pajamas and told you I would be in the bathroom, but would be right back. I asked for a kiss, and you puckered. I kissed you softly and said "I love you so much," as I lay my head on your chest. And that's when it happened. Past the trach you said, "I love you too" These were the first words I had heard from you in 16 days. I couldn't cry, I could't breathe, I just gasped and looked at you. Had I heard that right? I ran into the bathroom to change my clothes, holding onto the wall to keep my legs from collapsing under me. I sent Skyler a message on facebook, and sent a text message to Phyllis. I went back into your room and told you I was going to get into my recliner and try to get ready for bed. "I love you" I told you, knowing it was too good to be true to expect another response, but I got one. "I love you, too" you said again. My heart just about burst. The day of the accident, "I love you" had been the last words you had spoken to me and words I had feared I'd never hear you say again. I had confirmation. Whatever road lay ahead, I did the right thing... and you were fighting to come back to me.

I love you

Snow

To Charming with Love...

Dear Charming, 

It's funny the odd details you remember about the exact moment your world is flipped on it's end. For example, the moment we ran outside to find that our Niles had been brutally attacked, I was wearing a teal t-shirt and pajama shorts with marshmallow peeps on them. The shirt, covered in the blood of our daughter and our beloved dog, was thrown away. The shorts have remained in a drawer untouched ever since that day. I remember a sleepless night before that, and a call from you that very morning. You were having chest pains and wanted to go to the hospital. If you were willing to go to the hospital, I knew it had to be bad. For hours, I watched you in a hospital bed, thinking how I couldn't bear to lose you... then we went home and our lives were turned upside down. I remember thinking that, up until that point, that was the worst day of my life... Had I only known...

Six months to the day later... 

I ran out to the driveway, Frasier under my arm, wearing a blue nightgown, to meet an officer who would deliver the news that would turn my world inside out and upside down. I didn't get my morning text message from you and I knew, instinctively, that something was wrong. You were in a serious accident and had been airlifted to Lakeland Regional Medical Center. Your status, he didn't know. Airlifted? That could only mean one thing. It was bad. 

Thirty-six hours prior to your accident, you and I sat hand-in-hand at Epcot. Smiling. Enjoying the alone time. Taking a picture that I feared would be our last. "Really? A selfie?" you had laughed when I snapped the picture. "There aren't enough pictures of just you and me," I said. "When they're older I want our kids to look back and say 'they were always so happy and so in love.' I want us to be their standard." You agreed. Things were good. You were studying photography. We were working on starting our own business. But most importantly, we had each other and things had never been sweeter between us. Our love, I always thought, was the stuff fairy tales were made of. It wasn't always easy, no relationship ever is. But we always weathered the storm holding on tightly to each other. You are my soul mate, literally my other half. To lose you now when we have our whole lives ahead of us? I couldn't bear the thought. No one in this world is going to love me the way you do. I could never love anyone else as deeply as I love you. Losing you was not an option. 

So the emotional roller coaster began... Cracked ribs, collapsed lung, orbital fracture, subdural hematomas, surgery, coma, ICP monitors, podus boots, cognitive scales, tracheostomy tubes, feeding stubes, lung infections, doctors and nurses. I watched and waited for signs you were in there.I learned more medical terminology than I cared to ever learn in this lifetime. I didn't sleep. I didn't eat. For the first week, I don't think I left the hospital at all except to shower and get more clothes. I couldn't stand to leave you. I was so certain that if I left that you wouldn't be there when I got back. When I did finally spend a night at home with the kids, who desperately needed the reassurance of seeing one parent every now and then, I called the hospital hourly to check on you. The nursing staff in Trauma ICU knew me by name... and knew our life story. "This man has been my entire world since I was seventeen,"  I told them... "I can't lose him." 

Day six, they started to wean you off of sedation. Nothing. You responded very weakly to pain by moving your legs and arms. Still, you would not wake up. "Where do we stand now?" I asked the neurosurgeon. "Truthfully," he sighed, "I'm not optimistic." I fell apart. This wasn't happening... I will admit, I begged God to take me instead. My biggest fear became not only losing you, but that our kids would lose you to this terrible accident and then lose their mother to a broken heart. I couldn't breathe. Live without you? I couldn't bear it.

Day nine, another doctor still, tried to convince me you were in a vegetative state and would never come back to me. And even though I didn't believe him, I fell apart all over again. I refused to believe it was true. When I pinched you, you moved your legs. This was not characteristic of a vegetative state. "I've done my research," I calmly gathered every ounce of courage I could, "most comas don't last more than 2 to 4 weeks. Until we reach that point, I don't want to talk about any other option except for how we move forward." Dr. Benjamin was not amused to have his science questioned by the faith of a woman who knew her husband wouldn't want to leave her and would fight his way back to his family. 

It all  boils down to this, Charming... I know you. There's a reason why you and I identify so much with the Snow White/Prince Charming storyline on Once Upon a Time. You and I never give up hope... and we will always find each other. Medical science is nothing in the face of something that powerful. Prayers came in by the dozens. People I don't even know were praying for us. For your health, for my strength. It all boils down to us, though. There's no place that far... right? I've never known anyone with a relationship like ours. I know what we have wouldn't work for everyone... but I am constantly amazed and in awe of our love. Fourteen years, we had never slept apart before this... fourteen years, we still hold hands and giggle with each other like teenagers. I love what we have... I can't live without it. I know of no one who has a love like ours... I am blessed to have my best friend and my soul mate as my partner in this life. I am the luckiest woman in the world because I have your love. I knew you weren't ready for our journey to end... I believe in you, I always have... and I believed with all my heart that you were fighting to come back to me. I believed you weren't ready to leave me... I was in no shape to walk this life without you at my side. 

I love you

Snow