She was his most dearly-loved friend. She always had been and she always would be.
It is said there are many kinds of love - romantic love, paternal love, platonic love, love for one's country, and more. Much more. All different, all love. Ultimately, love is a recognition. It says, "there is something about you I cherish."
He loved her. He loved her more than his words could tell or his actions could ever express. He loved her even when she broke his heart, even when he broke hers.
It was a short time that they had known each other. Stormy, intense. It was no fault of hers, for he had a fragile heart. Most people he would keep at a safe distance but she was different. She was special, unique. He held on tight - too tight. She struggled for breath but she let him hold on anyway because she cared for him too. They grew together. They changed each other. They cherished each other.
And now it was the time of departure. People say that it's never goodbye, only farewell. But he didn't believe that. He looked at her, with a painted smile on his face and a dull ache in his heart. Could it be that this was the end? That they may never lay eyes upon each other until they meet again in the heavens? Words are spoken. Promises are made. He holds her tight - for he fears he may never hold her again.
Time marches forward without mercy - for time does not stop for weak sentiment or stretch for weepy goodbyes. Time will continue to match on, and only time will tell what would become this bond, this friendship. Would this just be another has-been, another someone-we-used-to-know? Or would they beat the odds and stand the test of time?
He questioned. He hoped.
He hopes. He still hopes.