In the first week, I fell into the trap of thinking love was material. I bought candles, scarves, and specialty teas. While she appreciated them, I noticed her eyes truly lit up when I sat down on the sofa, put my phone in the other room, and asked, "Tell me about that summer in 1974 again."
I stopped waiting for the “right time” to be soft. I stopped measuring love in minutes per phone call. I started treating every interaction like it might be the last one—not out of morbid fear, but out of grateful reverence.