Love came in the form of over three generations of geographically scattered family coming together to mourn for a distant relative and to support a close one. Love showed up more than 80 years after family left from Italy for promise in the U.S.
Love came when Donna, my uncle's ex-girlfriend insisted on being with him when he learned his medical diagnosis; he was stricken with throat cancer, the spring of last year. Love was when Donna drove said Uncle to the hospital, even though, years before, they'd been through a traumatic break-up.
Love shone in every action of a healthy 79 year old man who diligently looked after his ailing wife. Love was there through hip fractures, and breaking collar bones and dissipating brain function and countless hospital visits.
Love was there when two gal pals saw each other for the first time in a year; they embraced and walked stride for stride and spoke word for word as if time hadn't passed.
This is love; so don't fucking tell me it doesn't exist!
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