A heart like Hachikō's

It's true I took it hard when she left my life. It's true I continue to struggle, though not as much. I know why it hit me so hard, too. She is the thought I keep coming back to, but I will try not to beleaguer the point and test the patience of my readers. I thought, perhaps, there was something wrong with me. Why couldn't I move on? 

The world is full of tragic love stories. It makes for great fiction, but too often it drives nonfiction storylines. The lives of many poor souls, including me, are a testament to that fact. There is something resolute in us that refuses to move on, to grasp for another branch, so to speak, and move forward through the forest of life. We're stuck on the one our heart has chosen. Amazingly, for us, it is better to love and not have the one we love instead of another. 

There are many stories of a love that extends beyond the grave. Many people have even died of a broken heart to join a loved one who has passed on. The need for our beloved is stronger than death, it seems. Our loyalty is immeasurable and permanent, and we will not be reasoned with. 

The story of Hachikō, a Japanese Akita, is like that. Dogs are often loyal to a fault. Beat them and they keep coming back to you. But, Hachikō's loyalty extended beyond the death of his master. Hachikō's owner died while at work, and normally he would meet his dog at the train station and walk home with him. Well, Hachikō continued to wait at the train station every single day until his death nine years later. He believed his master would come home someday. 

It's in that same vein that I believe, perhaps erroneously, that my love will return to me. It's illogical, I know, yet my heart has resolved to love her in spite of any logic. My heart is like Hachikō's, patiently awaiting her return. Even if she never comes back and I never know why, I'll be sitting there — rain or shine — my heart leaping inside, ready to reunite with hers.