Love is "being with you

"Love is the resonance with another person, body and soul, and only with him or her."

　　One day in September 1947, Paris. André Gautz met his love, Doreena, at a friend's house. She had thick brown hair, and pearly skin, and exuded an innate nobility and elegance, so charming and so lovely. She was surrounded by three attentive men, and he fell in love at first sight but was deterred.

　　A month later, he met her again on the streets of Paris and was fascinated by her dance-like gait. At that moment, he knew that there was a seed called "love" that was sprouting in his heart. But unfortunately, she did not find him.

　　Later, one snowy day, he saw her walking in front of him and got up the courage to go after her: "Shall we go dancing?"

　　"Whynot?" she replied, so simple, yet so delightfully.

　　"Walking into my room, you didn't show the slightest surprise at my ascetic life, and neither did I. I seemed to think naturally that you would accept it."

　　Their love, which came so naturally, was taken for granted. Before he met her, he would have been bored with other girls for more than two hours; but after he met her, time was such a luxury that it flew away, drop by drop and without a sound.

　　They saw each other almost every night. His room consisted only of a bookshelf made of boards and bricks, a table piled with paper heads, a chair, and an electric heater, and an old sofa, only sixty centimeters wide, which had collapsed deeply and was still used as a bed.

　　However, she was not surprised, not to mention disgusted. Their love, in this dilapidated house, heated up a little, a little fermented, beautiful drowsy.

　　"If you don't want to get married, then let's separate, so that our love won't fall into quarrels and we won't face the abyss of someone betraying us in the future ......"

　　She told him with a calm face as she stood in the administrative hall.

　　He hesitated, flinched, and was annoyed and scared as he went through the marriage procedure.

　　She was immobile, cold-eyed, and retreating.

　　She told him firmly that she would support him in his writing, without complaint, without regret.

　　In the fall of 1949, they got married.

　　"Hardship has a fearful face."

　　They lived in poverty for long years, and writing occupied his whole body and mind, at all times. But she stood firmly behind him, as she had promised him, and supported him silently.

　　She went to work as a model for a painter, a tour guide for a travel group, and even went to the street to sell newspapers.

　　But she remained optimistic, loving life, like a constant source of light to illuminate his entire life.

　　She would light a lamp and quietly wait for his return late at night; she would hold his hand and stroll in the sunset; she would take him to enjoy the fields, trees, animals, and the beauty around him.

　　She taught him to know more about life.

　　She filled him with the full meaning of life.

　　"Soon you will be 82 years old, 6 cm shorter in height, and weighing only 45 kg. But you are as beautiful and graceful as ever, and you make my heart sing. We have spent 58 years together, and my love for you grows stronger. I have this annoying void in my chest again, and it can only be filled when your burning body is nestled in my arms."

　　The gray-haired man wrote this scorching love letter for her at the age of 84.

　　For fifty-eight years, they held the hand of their son and grew old with him. Together through thick and thin, as they said when they took their vows, they never did anything to harm the union.

　　Unfortunately, things are not always the same. Fate has a hand that cannot see the existence of a beautiful fairy tale.

　　She became terminally ill and died soon.

　　He dropped everything and focused only on her existence.

　　"In the moments of the night, I sometimes see the shadow of a man who walks behind a hearse in the empty roads and deserts, and I am this man."

　　She struggles with the torment of her illness, yet she is fearless.

　　He tortures himself in the panic of fear of loss, yet he is powerless.

　　Separation is the cruelest thing in this world. It is unemotional, it does not ask for cause and effect, and it strikes straight at the heart.

　　"There is only one thing that is major for me, and that is to be with you."

　　Forgive him for his cowardice, he did not have the means to watch her die with his own eyes.

　　Forgive him for his cowardice, he couldn't do it to continue to walk alone in the human world without her.

　　Forgive him for not being able to attend her funeral.

　　Forgive him for not being able to bury her ashes himself.

　　In 2007, he was at home, turned on the gas, and together with her, went to Yellow Springs.

　　"If you are united with a person, interrupting a lifetime, you put two lives together, do not do things that detract from your union, the building of this relationship is your common plan, two people who are always strengthening, changing, reorienting according to the changing circumstances, how you do, what you become ......"

　　What is love?

　　Maybe it's that moment of heart pounding.

　　Maybe it's the tender nuances of life.

　　Maybe it's the gloom and doom that follows the bombast.

　　The fact is that you can find a lot of people who are not able to get a good deal on this.

　　But no one can deny that...

　　Love is "with you".

　　The longest confession is companionship.

　　May you and I love, never break up.