froggysmack's blog: "Only part of the story..."

The reason I lamented my own experience was to let you know that it will eventually become a sweet reminiscence. For me, it's been ongoing, and I started seriously dating again about 2 years after my love passed. You just gotta let go and give up before it becomes possible for love to find you again (by give up, I mean, give it up to your higher power). Personally, I believe that I have already had the one thing many people spend their entire lives searching for and never find. That comforts me and some may say it makes me a cynic, but in my mind, I have already lived the sweetest romance and overcome the hardest of losses (aside from a child). If I can do that, well, I can do anything. And, you will as well...in your own time.

I was 19, and he was the love of my life, my fiance. He left our 8 month old daughter behind, and I couldn't look at her for a week. The worst was the first day back at work, realizing that my life had to go on... Then, birthdays, holidays, and the date of his death just so happened to be December 7 (the date Pearl Harbor was bombed). And, there were two others in the vehicle with him (his best friend, my best friend's hubby, leaving a 6 mo old son behind...and a 17 year old that hadn't even had a chance to live yet) People are correct in saying that time heals, but what they don't tell you is it takes a loooong time, and you will never be COMPLETELY healed. It's much like a scar that burns from time to time, and in my experience, it isn't on the heart...it's on the soul. This was the first poem I ever wrote for him, titled UnDying Love, and I ultimately read it at his funeral... Upon an orchid just bloomed the sun shines bright, A hummingbird hovers, to only take flight... Nectar so sweet from the center doth flow, Yet next to the orchid is a blooming yellow rose. The rose is fragile and yet so fierce The petals are frail, and the thorns, they pierce. My heart is torn between the two- Do I choose for me or do I choose for you? I love you so I pick the rose And from my eye a single tear flows As I look back only to see That the orchid has wilted in sweet misery.