I don't know whether he was the person I loved most.
But when I look back on the past, I have always believed this without knowing why: If I have grandchildren one day and watch them grow up, then eventually, perhaps one afternoon or evening, they'll come running toward me in the sunshine and beg me to tell them stories about the past. When that day comes, the story I'll most want to tell will be about him, as if he had belonged only to me from beginning to end.
Theme: The person we love most may not be the one who leaves the deepest mark on our lives
