The real love

A man of certain age came to the clinic to treat a wound in the hand. he had enough hurry, and while he was recovering I asked him what is it so urgent that it had to do. He said to me that he had to go to an elders' residence to have breakfast with his wife who was living there. he told me that was going some time in this place and that she had a very advanced Alzheimer. While it had just bandaged the wound, I asked him if she would alarm in case he was coming late this morning.

- not, he said to me. She already does not know whom I am. Already almost five years that she does not recognize me.

Then I asked him surprised: and if already she does not know who is you, for what this need to be with her every morning?

He smiled me and giving me a pat in the hand, he said to me: - she does not know whom I am I, but I still know very well who is she.
I had to control the tears while he was going out and I thought: " This it is the class of love that I want for my life. The real love diminishes neither to the physical thing nor to the romantic thing. The real love is the acceptance of everything what other one is, of what has been, of what will be and of what already is not...