When you lose a loved one, itâ€™s hard. You know there is no one on the planet that can replace them and no one in the world that you could feel that way about ever again. At the moment of loss, your body goes numb and you slowly slip out of reality. As if you were in a horrible nightmare and you just want to wake up to the happiness that once overcame you and that loved one. You want to hold that person again or even feel them standing next to you. Then comes the pain that is so unbearable that death seems like a more serene option. The hurt that the one you love you arenâ€™t going to talk to anymore, to see anymore, laugh with anymore. The recovery process is seemingly slow and you curse the outsiders that tell you that time heals all wounds. How would they know? They didnâ€™t lose the person who was the glue to their very being, the love that made each day ten times sunnier. But, how mad could you be at the ones trying to help, trying to coax your anger and sadness. Not much can be done now. All you can do is remember.
I met Joe when I was fourteen. We attended the same school and shared mutual friends, but we had never met face to face. We only heard about each other through word of mouth. He was senior, enlisted in the navy and I was freshman brand new to Florida. Upon our first meeting, we had a lot in common so we hit it off right away. Joe and I became really good friends and began spending a lot of time with each other. We spoke on the phone almost everyday and instant messaged each other on AOL all the time. As time wore on, Joe and I started discovering feelings for each other and we decided to give a relationship a try. Carrying out our relationship was hard, especially because of our four-year age difference. On my behalf, I never really told my parents about Joe. For one thing, I felt like they would never accept Joe because of the color of his skin. .
Months went by and Joe and mineâ€™s relationship only got better with each passing day.