We have all loved him, in our own ways. Some romantically, some not. But He never doubted our love, not one millisecond of his years, of which there have been many.

Sometimes, our hearts failed us, and we doubted He was able to love each of us in our turn. Sometimes his inscrutably brilliant mind and changing faces made it difficult to believe; hard to trust and obey. Some of us suffered for that failure, some died.

But we never stopped loving him in all his forms - not once in all the rest of our remaining lives, even after our travels had ended in one way or another. Not for one dull minute After the Doctor, because no matter how long or short our time together, we were all better for having known him.

For the Doctor is the raging fire, the oncoming storm, and the last defense against the dark. And even flitting through his many lives as a butterfly on a summer's day, our lives touched his, and we mattered. Really and truly mattered, in ways than the rest of our simple species may have ever mattered before, and perhaps in all time following.

And that is worth all the love in the world.