Michael, as you know I am a hopeless romantic. My dream of one day having my fairy tale led me down a path of true romance. It led me to learn French for six years. For 1/4th of my life I have learned the ways, culture, and purity of France- only cultivating my love for romance even more. When I see, speak, or hear French my heart starts to race, butterflies form in my stomach, giddiness and excitement overcome me.
However, my love for French grew even more after you died. For in the French language, they place emphasis on the verb, they stress the indirect object, they know that every part of a sentence is connected to the other.
Michael, you are missing from me. This huge part of my heart, my spirit, my being is gone. I feel so torn, so shattered, so beat up? What do you do when a piece of your soul is missing? The French embrace it, romance it, and make art from it. French is me in a language.
No fears and limitless, MHF
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