What's that feeling you get when you feel like something is taken from you, even though you knew it was never going to be there forever? I don't know, I don't want to.

        When we were kids, no one else mattered but us. We would run through the forest near your house together and get lost, but we weren't scared, we had each other. We would have tea parties and invite our favorite stuffed animals to join us.

         You held my hand on our very first day of kindergarten. I was so scared that I couldn't sleep for scheduled nap time. But, of course, you cuddled with me so I at least felt I wasn't alone.

          First day of Middle school you held my hand. I was so nervous that I forgot my lunch and the cafeteria food was not good. So, of course, you shared your lunch with me.

          You held my hand on our first day of High School. I was so terrified of our teacher in 3rd period that I hid in a trash can. You, of course, pushed the trash can over and rolled me all the way through the halls and into the classroom. That was an entrance no one can beat.

          You held my hand at our graduation. You held me when my dog died. You held me when my dad left. You held me, excitedly, when I told  you Josh and I were engaged. You held me at my wedding, when I told you that even though Josh was the love of my life, you were still my soulmate. You held me.

            Now, 10 years after being separated, I'm holding you in your death bed.

             But let's not focus on that part just yet. Let's start from when I found our photo album.