Mark

Mark,

                Let me just say this now: If you EVER die on me EVER again, I will bring you back to life so I can kill you. I sobbed my eyes out. I stayed in our bed wearing your clothes and hugging your pillow. Trying to keep your scent on me; your mate mark started faded… Nobody could bring me out of my depression. Nobody.

                I’ll always love you. You’re my heart, baby. My life; my soul; my very being; you’re so much a part of me now; I don’t want you to ever leave.

                Sure, I have the others, but you, baby… You’re the original. I saw you first. I loved you first. I married you first. I remember those times you’d take me on the road with you. All the fun we had… How I’d accompany you down to the ring during your matches… Sitting and watching as they set up the ring. How we laughed and joked around. How you’d act all tough, but the look in your eyes were clear.

                I remember travelling from city to city on your bike. The open road trips.. How we’d have to stop because I’d tease you all to hell. How we’d play pranks on each other. Everybody saw the effect I had on you back then.

                I remember giving birth to our first child. The look of pride you had. The look of love you wore. No matter how many fights or arguments we get into, at the end of the day, we always go to bed together.

                I love how warm your body is next to mine. How you keep me warm when I’m cold. How you love me for me. How we say, “Fuck You” to everybody who thinks our relationship is wrong. I love you. I don’t want your money. I don’t want your fame. I don’t love you because of how badly you fucked up your body by wrestling. I love you because I love you.

                I love waking up next to you every morning. I love looking into your hazel eyes. I love seeing the twinkle of mischief, the look of trouble. The look of love, lust, happiness… I love how you wear all leather. Leather pants, leather vest… Biker boots… Or your blue jeans with your blue sleeveless flannel. Or your dark black jeans with your black shirt.

                You have something about you that might intimidate everybody else, but me? It draws me in. Everybody respects you. I respect you. I love you. The reason we’re making this marriage work is because we have love, trust, and we can communicate. Whether it be through post-it notes, little messages on our bikes or your truck.

                I love how you would surprise me; having flowers delivered to me… Visiting me when I’m on tours… I love the little things you do for and to me.

I love you, Mark.

Always and Forever.

Love,

Sam