...dimaggio

I asked you once, do you know how much I love you?

You said, why don't you tell me.

I could feel the heat of our bodies and synchronized breath. I looked into your eyes and remembered.

Back in '98, I had just broken up with some girl. I can barely remember her name now, anyway she cheated on me and I found out. I was heartsick for months, you know, she was the one and all.

My dad went to a cemetery to see his mom's grave and I was in a maudlin mood so I went with him.

I heard weeping. Heart rendering sobs of grief. Pain and love. Longing. Mumbled, I miss you's and I love you's over and over.

I look down the long aisle of tombstones and see a man bent over, wracked with grief. One of his hands was clutched around his heart, the other tracing the etched name of the tombstone.

My dad felt uncomfortable being by that much emotion and signaled me to go. As we passed near the man I was able to see the dates.

June 1, 1926 - August 5, 1962. Thirty-six years ago, he still weeps.

That is how much I love you.