March 20th. Not my birthday or our wedding date or even the anniversary of my death, but a landmark on my–our calendar of eternity. Seventy eight years ago, tonight.
Since I signed my name in the book, since it was sealed in blood, my blood and another’s, so much has happened. Loss and love–triumph and tragedy–love and more loss.
The air was heavy and deep, rumbles of thunder still echoed across the lake when your graceful fingers coaxed magic from a borrowed violin. The old city walls absorbed those notes and melodies, sending echoes through castles of the living and canyons of the dead.
I thought it was over that night–the torment. My happily ever after had arrived. Not even close.
I’ve searched for you for years, across mountains and oceans, through gardens and ruins. Everywhere we’ve been and everywhere we dreamed of going.
My love, light of my life, whenever or wherever you read these pages, just know I’m still your Angel.