I know I know I know. The title is cliché beyond cliché, and it’s not even true (yet) but it could be. I don’t know how to express this much love. I don’t know how I would (will?) live if it stops some day.
Because here’s another thing about being fifty, and having had many loves before. I know that this will “end” some day. In the best case, our love will just become mundane. It will be something we’re both used to, me and my Far-Away-Boy. We’ll do those things we used to do. We’ll see the people we usually see. We’ll talk about our favorite subjects and sometimes we will become bored with each other. We’ll have to ignore each other in order to get work done, or cook food, or wash the dishes.
And that’s if we’re really, really lucky. The other side of this is that we really could run out of steam, or worse yet, only one of us will before the other does, with all the misery and sadness that will cause. Or there will be a sickness, a cancer, an accident, one of those big life things that makes us too sad or hurt to go on. I’m so afraid of losing you, my Far-Away-Boy. I’m afraid our love will be too much.
I would die for you just to let us stop at this one, perfect moment.