A Man Says Goodbye To The One Who Has Been His Wife For 59 Years: "I Know You Can Not Hear Me, But I Love You. "

When the photographer April Yurcevic Sheperd witnessed the exceptional scene of this man sitting near the coffin of the woman he loved and with whom he was standing for the last time, his emotion was such that she absolutely had to put words it. If she shares today what she has lived, it is to show the world that sincere love does indeed exist.

Here is the story of Bobby Moore's farewell to his dear and tender, who was his wife for 59 years ...

"Today, I witnessed a love story.

(...) In the world we live in, where oaths are broken in no time, what I witnessed today is of such rarity as a sumptuous diamond.

Today, I saw a man, a wounded man, standing at the bedside of what he possessed most precious. It was love personified.

When he entered the room, his steps were uncertain, but his determination was not disturbed. His eyes were focused on his final destination, in front of the room. A gray coffin lay beneath the colored lights. His lid was raised halfway; the other half supported a composition of brightly colored flowers and ribbons marked "Mother" and "Bride".

Approaching, without stopping, he leaned over her and kissed her lips makeup, his body trembled to stand up above.

As gently and calmly, he addressed these words to him. These same words had probably been pronounced countless times, but this time it was accompanied by a certain finality.

I know you can not hear me, "he murmured. "But I love you. And her tears began to flow.

Family visits were not scheduled for at least an hour, but it was important to come early. He did not want to waste those last hours. For almost 60 years, she was at his side, but it was not enough. He was not close enough to her.

So he took a chair and sat there. His cane on the right, his wife died on the left, he landed next to the coffin for almost an hour. He stroked his wife's arms, patted his hands. It was as if he was trying to comfort her, but in truth, he was comforting himself.

It was as if it did not bother him that his skin was cold, that his body was rigid and hard; no more than it bothered him that she did not answer the words he was whispering to her. As strange as it might have seemed, it could have been a normal scene from any of their evenings at home. With the exception of the plethora of flowers and small gifts given by friends who sympathized, this scenario seemed completely normal.

When the family started arriving, he was still standing there, holding his hand, stroking his hair.

"She seems to be fine, is not she? He asked his children as they approached.

Everyone agreed. And they cried.

For nearly five hours he was very close, exhausted, worn out, until his body asked him to take leave and his mind begged for a little rest.

This devoted man showed more grace during those moments of great sadness that many would have done in times of great joy. I stayed there speechless, admiring this demonstration of fidelity. I had never seen a man so downcast, dispossessed of his joy by the curse of death. I was wondering, as I watched him, what he would do tomorrow and the days after? For today, it was easy.

Today, she was still there, standing by her side, she could be touched, he could see her or kiss her. Tomorrow, when she is buried and returns to her house, how would it be? Her belongings will always be there - her scent, scribbled little shopping lists, her favorite chair, leftovers in the fridge, their bed. Their bed. How does someone fall asleep after 59 years of falling asleep with their best friend? I can not imagine anyone able to sleep after that.

Today, I witnessed a love story. I'll see it again tomorrow when the story ends for good, and the scene is empty, and the lights go out.

For Bobby, and for all he is. "
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