Sometimes, when we have a bad breakup, we feel like we were never loved at all. Because something wasn't ever-lasting, we tend to believe there was something false or defective about it in the first place. Maybe it was never real at all. That's an illusion, though. A false assumption.
No matter how it ended, there were still nights of flaming passion. There were still mornings when you saw her eyes before you saw the sun. There were still days when you went to work, and all she really wanted in the world was for you to have a good day. There were still days so bad when the only thing in the world that would make you feel better was her voice. None of those things were false; they just weren't permanent. Being locked in a moment of time doesn't make things any less real. In some ways, it makes them so much more real.
Where I am now, every day I see people coming to visit the person they've loved for the past sixty years and spend time while their lover forgets who they are. Their love lasts, but their names are forgotten. Some come to hold hands with the woman who bore them three children while she struggles to breathe, knowing her last day won't be long.
God injected us into the fabric of eternity. The love of a thousand years lasts but the briefest moment. It's not your failure when things end because all things end; you will too. In the span of eternity, a moment is an hour is a decade, is a century, is a millennium. The love of just one moment lasts beyond the life of our sun; neither will last--in time.
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