I finally cried.

Today, I cried. I finally cried. As in really cried. I haven't cried like this for so long, trying to be strong for him and for everyone. But then, I told myself-- tears aren't for pain alone. Tears cleanse the soul as much as they cleanse the eyes, a friend of mine once said. They can be used to express one's happiness, one's relief, and the immense joy that one loves and is loved back.

I cried because a good friend of mine (thank you so so much) just sent this Youtube video and I can soo relate. I don't want to say that we will end up like this because I really don't know. But I'd like to believe that like Danny and Annie, love conquers everything. Even fear.


Paree... Please watch this. I love you. I love you. I love you. (Please press the interactive transcript so you can read the lines)

P.S. For those who cannot view the interactive transcript, I have transcribed the dialogue here:

Danny Perasa and his wife, Annie, came to StoryCorps to recount their twenty-seven-year romance. As they remember their life together from their first date to Danny's final days with terminal cancer, these remarkable Brooklynites personify the eloquence, grace, and poetry that can be found in the voices of everyday people when we take the time to listen.

Danny and Annie Perasa live in Brooklyn, New York.
He's a horse-betting clerk, she's a nurse.

They were married in 1978.
And at Storycorps, they told the story of their very first date...


Danny: She started to talk and I said, "Listen,

I'm going to deliver a speech," I said, "at the end,

you're going to want to go home."

I said, "You represent a dirty 4-letter word."

I said, "That word is 'love.'"

I says, "If we're going anywhere,

we're going down the aisle because I'm too tired,

too sick, and too sore to do any other damn thing."

And she turned around and she said,

"Oh, of course I'll marry you."

And the next morning, I called her

as early as I possibly could --

ANNIE: And he always gets up early.

-[Laughing] 

Danny: To make sure

she hadn't changed her mind, and she hadn't.

And every year, on April 22nd, around 3:00,

I call her and ask her, if it was today,

would she do it again and, so far,

the answer's been the same.

ANNIE: Yeah, 25 times, "Yes." [Laughs]

DANNY: You see, the thing of it is,

I always feel guilty when I say "I love you" to you

and I say it so often.

I say it to remind you that, as dumpy as I am

it's coming from me -- it's like hearing

a beautiful song from a busted old radio

and it's nice of you to keep the radio around the house.

ANNIE:If I don't have a note on the kitchen table,

I think there's something wrong.

You write a love letter to me every morning.

DANNY:Well, the only thing that could possibly be wrong is

I couldn't find a silly pen.

ANNIE: "To my princess:

the weather out today is extremely rainy.

I'll call you at 11:20 in the morning" --

DANNY: It's a romantic weather report.

ANNIE: "And I love you, I love you, I love you."

DANNY: When a guy is happily married,

no matter what happens at work, no matter what happens

in the rest of the day, there's a shelter

when you get home, there's a knowledge,

knowing that you can hug somebody

without them throwing you down the stairs

and saying "Get your hands off me."

Being married is like having a color television set --

you never want to go back to black and white.

Danny and Annie spent twenty-seven years happy years together. 

Then, in January of 2006, Danny was diagnosed with a fast-spreading

terminal cancer. 

A few years later, Annie and Danny recorded one last interview together 

from the living room of their Brooklyn Home. 

ANNIE: The illness is not hard on me.

It's just, you know, the finality of it.

And him? He goes along like a trooper.

Danny: Listen, even downhill, a car doesn't roll unless it's pushed

and you're giving me a great push.

The deal of it is we try to give each other hope --

and not hope that I'll live,

hope that you'll do well after I pass,

hope that people will support her,

hope that, if she meets somebody and likes him, she marries him.

ANNIE:

-You know, he has everything planned, you know.

DANNY: 

-I'm working on her.

She said it was her call --

she wants to walk out behind the casket alone.

I guess that's the way to do it, because,

when we were married --

You know how your brother takes you down,

your father takes you down?

She said, "Well, I don't know which

of my brothers to walk in with.

I don't want to offend anybody."

I says, "I got a solution."

I said, "You walk in with me, you walk out with me."

And the other day, I said, "Who's going to walk

down the aisle with you behind the casket?"

You know, to support her.

And she said, "Nobody. I walked in with you alone,

[Tearfully] I'm walking out with you alone."

ANNIE: Mm-hmm.

DANNY: There's a thing in life,

where you have to come to terms with dying.

Well, I haven't come to terms with dying yet.

I want to come to terms with being sure that you understand

that my love for you, up to this point,

was as much as it could be

and it'll be as much as it could be for eternity.

I always said the only thing I have to give you

is a poor gift and it's myself.

And I always gave it.

And if there's a way to come back and give it,

I'll do that, too.

Do you have the Valentine's Day letter there?

ANNIE: Yeah.

"My dearest wife: This is a very special day.

It is a day on which we share our love,

which still grows after all these years.

Now, that love is being used by us

to sustain us through these hard times.

All my love, all my days, and more.

Happy Valentine's Day."

[Crying] I could write on and on about her.

She lights up the room in the morning

Then she tells me to put both hands on her shoulders

so she can support me.

She lights up my life when she says to me at night,

"Wouldn't you like a little ice cream?"

or "Would you please drink more water?"

I mean, those aren't very romantic things to say,

but they stir my heart.

In my mind, in my heart, there has never been,

there is not now, and never will be,

another Annie.

A week after this conversation was recorded,
Storycorps broadcast it on public radio.

Danny died that same day.

Annie received thousands of condolence letters from radio listeners.

She reads one each day in place of her love letter from Danny.