When you're young, you believe in miracles, you believe in the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, you believe in "Happily Ever After," it was that way with Danijela and I when we were married on that bright spring day. I couldn't have imagined anyone more beautiful than she was in her white dress, more innocent than she looked with the veil shielding her face as she walked down the aisle,, her flowers clutched tightly in front of her. We had a lifetime in front of us on that day, and if fairytales were real then this had to be what they looked like. As we traded rings in front of our family and friends we spoke of undying love and loyalty, of embarking on a life together that would carry us to old age and beyond. Why should we think there would be anything less? How could we know it would all go so terribly wrong in only a handful of years?
I'm older now, wiser, I've long since learned the truth about miracles, about pots of gold, about "Happily Ever Afters." For far too many years I let my knowledge of those truths stop me from living, for what was the point if I could never reclaim what I'd once had, the happiness I'd known back when I was still innocent?
It took facing death to make me find the reason to live again, to enable myself to look past the present and to once again live for the future. As I embark on this new journey with Abby and Joe, I'm beginning to wonder if I might find a way too, to once more believe in miracles, and if I can do that, then perhaps I might at long last know a true "Happily Ever After."
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