Till Death Do Us Apart

Death. I don't discuss death. I talk of life, of after-life, but never death. Death is an event, and living is the process. This event just suddenly turns big tables upside down in a moment's time. I believe while we are living, we are also marching towards the final salute. In this letter to you, my love, I want to tell you how I feel about it.

Firstly, any-x that keeps me away from you is the means of my death. When you return to our nest and don't find me opening the door for you, just know that that time length has taken its toll on me. You would be delighted to find my corpse in our closet with our sweet picture in my arms.

Secondly, please know that I am really scared of that last obvious event. Your beautiful consolation of after-life sounds to me like the aftermath of a disaster. And in this disaster the tears won't be for people you don't know. I have the surety of this one life; I want to make the most of it. I want to prepare the fittest breakfast to you one fine morning, get you a grand lunch one rainy afternoon, make you a romantic dinner one spring evening. I would love to dance to piano music twirling under your palm over red wine, go on a vacation to the alps, rappelling or bungee jumping. I will very surely love to passionately make out in an Italian vineyard.  I want to woo you to bed every night, kiss you like it's the last one I get to smooch your lips, and touch you like the first time ever. I want to walk under blossomed boughs on the rivulet bridge with my hand in yours; or take a boat-ride in the waters of Venice. I want to dress beautiful and suit you up while you put the missing earring back on. I want to whisper every night I love you before you fall asleep.

I want to spend my entire life acknowledging that nothing gets more important than you. Rest anything and everything can wait.

When the date of the event finally arrives, I must be in your arms. I know I do sound like the girl who wants everything perfect and romantic. What a waste of breath if the last one wouldn't be in your safe hug.

Thirdly,  I don't know how is old age coming on me. But what I do know for the warm mornings is a big mug of coffee with the thick album, casing all our hundreds of pictures telling our stories in the most vivid ways. I want our children and friends to see us with eyes full of hope and joy. I want this love story to be the one to which two old people smile to. I should wake up to know that not a single day went by in my life without you.

Darling, we both know everyone knows that death isn't a delightful experience.  Only I know how hard my should would cry to see you alone, silently rolling down tears on the rocking chair in the corner of the porch. Trust me honey, every bit of my quark would put its energy to be with you and hug you. Only difference would be that I wouldn't be able to do any of that. No matter how badly you want me to be by your side, I would be just thin air around you. If you turn into a healthy old man, you may be able to smell my perfume still.

Love, promise me you won't make me dead, as to make up to my wait out there alone. Let death do its business and you do yours. Be mine. Make me yours. Love me like this is the last chance to the most powerful feeling in the world. I don't know how but we will make it to the end of our lives,  till death do us apart.

P.S. I love you.