Prologue
If you ever happen to visit Salem U.S.A., take a close look around. You probably won't find much there, it's one of those small towns where everybody knows everybody. But, if you have the time and want to see something truly special, visit the town cemetery. Hidden away in a corner in the center of a circle of tall weeping willows, you will find two stone monuments. The first is of an angel, her head tilted to the sky, wings ready for flight. Her gray curls tumble to her waist, her hands in such a position as if she were in eternal prayer. Looking a little to the left of her, you will find the second stone monument. It is an intricate statue of a young man, kneeling on one knee, his eyes averted in an everlasting gaze on the tallest willow tree in the ring surrounding him. If you decide that perhaps you would like to know what it is that this stone man finds so interesting, follow his gaze to the tree. If you peer closely at the old, faded bark crumbling from the trunk, a deeply carved heart will be visible. In it's small interior, there rests the smallest indication of the truly amazing thing that is about to unfold before your eyes. In the center of the heart, there lie the initials B.B. and C.W., and beneath them a tiny word that you can hardly see, so faded and rotted the bark has become. But if you look hard enough you should be able to read what was so neatly carved into the bark forty years earlier. Forever.
And that's what this story is about, forever. Forever is quite a long time, and it may seem like an eternity, because in all honesty forever and eternity are the exact same thing. I have once read a very good definition of eternity; it went a little something like this:
"If there is a mountain a mile high, and once every ten thousand years, a bird flies by and brushes it with a feather, by the time that mountain is worn to the ground, but a hundredth of a second has gone by in the context of eternity."
The tale I am about to tell you, and the story of true love that it contains fits this definition so perfectly that I often wonder if they were written for each other. Yet, one can never be too sure in a world like our own, when we only see what happens before us and for all we know, there could be a great battle in a neighboring country and we would be completely oblivious to it. Yet, I am obliged to tell you of this story, though it happened before my time. If you choose to set your gaze back to the two stone monuments in the middle of the ring of willow trees hidden in a far off corner in the town cemetery of Salem U.S.A., look down by the bases of these two pieces of carved stone. Slightly overgrown with blades of soft green grass is a marble plaque, a headstone. On it are carved the names of two of the most amazing people I have ever known in my life.
"Chloe Wesley Black- Loving wife and darling mother, a kindred spirit that has brought light to all the lives she has touched. 1942-1999"
"Brady Victor Black- Caring husband and lovable father, a strong man who could brighten the day of any melancholy soul. 1941-2001"
This is what is engraved on the marble headstone that rests peacefully in the soft ground in the quiet cemetery. And, looking back on the two people whom they represent, I find that it is finally time to put this pen to paper. If you ask anyone above the age of fifty in this small tranquil town, then perhaps they can relate to you the events that have taken place some forty years ago. They should be able to tell you of the great love that swept two unsuspecting people into its powerful grasp and changed perhaps everyone in that town when it did. It just goes to show you how significant a life can be, or in this case, two lives. It just goes to show you that there really can be a Romeo and Juliette in modern day history, yet perhaps lacking the tragic ending that makes everyone cry when they happen to come across it in a book or even on television.
So, on this sunny day, as I sit leaned up against a tall weeping willow, looking across the few feet of grass at the two stone statues in mid- August, their story can finally be told.
If you ever happen to visit Salem U.S.A., take a close look around. You probably won't find much there, it's one of those small towns where everybody knows everybody. But, if you have the time and want to see something truly special, visit the town cemetery. Hidden away in a corner in the center of a circle of tall weeping willows, you will find two stone monuments. The first is of an angel, her head tilted to the sky, wings ready for flight. Her gray curls tumble to her waist, her hands in such a position as if she were in eternal prayer. Looking a little to the left of her, you will find the second stone monument. It is an intricate statue of a young man, kneeling on one knee, his eyes averted in an everlasting gaze on the tallest willow tree in the ring surrounding him. If you decide that perhaps you would like to know what it is that this stone man finds so interesting, follow his gaze to the tree. If you peer closely at the old, faded bark crumbling from the trunk, a deeply carved heart will be visible. In it's small interior, there rests the smallest indication of the truly amazing thing that is about to unfold before your eyes. In the center of the heart, there lie the initials B.B. and C.W., and beneath them a tiny word that you can hardly see, so faded and rotted the bark has become. But if you look hard enough you should be able to read what was so neatly carved into the bark forty years earlier. Forever.
And that's what this story is about, forever. Forever is quite a long time, and it may seem like an eternity, because in all honesty forever and eternity are the exact same thing. I have once read a very good definition of eternity; it went a little something like this:
"If there is a mountain a mile high, and once every ten thousand years, a bird flies by and brushes it with a feather, by the time that mountain is worn to the ground, but a hundredth of a second has gone by in the context of eternity."
The tale I am about to tell you, and the story of true love that it contains fits this definition so perfectly that I often wonder if they were written for each other. Yet, one can never be too sure in a world like our own, when we only see what happens before us and for all we know, there could be a great battle in a neighboring country and we would be completely oblivious to it. Yet, I am obliged to tell you of this story, though it happened before my time. If you choose to set your gaze back to the two stone monuments in the middle of the ring of willow trees hidden in a far off corner in the town cemetery of Salem U.S.A., look down by the bases of these two pieces of carved stone. Slightly overgrown with blades of soft green grass is a marble plaque, a headstone. On it are carved the names of two of the most amazing people I have ever known in my life.
"Chloe Wesley Black- Loving wife and darling mother, a kindred spirit that has brought light to all the lives she has touched. 1942-1999"
"Brady Victor Black- Caring husband and lovable father, a strong man who could brighten the day of any melancholy soul. 1941-2001"
This is what is engraved on the marble headstone that rests peacefully in the soft ground in the quiet cemetery. And, looking back on the two people whom they represent, I find that it is finally time to put this pen to paper. If you ask anyone above the age of fifty in this small tranquil town, then perhaps they can relate to you the events that have taken place some forty years ago. They should be able to tell you of the great love that swept two unsuspecting people into its powerful grasp and changed perhaps everyone in that town when it did. It just goes to show you how significant a life can be, or in this case, two lives. It just goes to show you that there really can be a Romeo and Juliette in modern day history, yet perhaps lacking the tragic ending that makes everyone cry when they happen to come across it in a book or even on television.
So, on this sunny day, as I sit leaned up against a tall weeping willow, looking across the few feet of grass at the two stone statues in mid- August, their story can finally be told.