Brenda, you know me. I don't make promises as a rule, I've learned not to. Most promises seem so imaginary, with a life span as short as a firefly's. In fact, most things people hold dear or say they do don't seem to last. What is valuable one day may be worthless the next. No one knows that better than I do.

How can I say, so soon and so surely, that my happiness in you will never fade? I can't say. It's like waking up with the answer to a puzzle and not knowing where it came from. I never make promises as arule. But now every word between us from morning until night is a promise to me. I collect them in my head and, at the end of each day, I turn them over and set them in place, like bricks. They are that solid, they are that real. They have built us a home, and fire and wind and flood cannot touch it. They give me a place where I can love you from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and inhealth until death do us part.

The couple went their separate ways but eventually found themselves together again after Brenda suffered a breakdown. The couple was due to marry in October of 1998, but a tragedy tore the couple apart once again. Brenda was "killed" when her mother grabbed the stearing wheel of the car Brenda was driving and the two went over a cliff on September 16, 1998.



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