I was rereading a book that I love, Love Story, the past week and realized something. In the story, two unlikely people fall in love and one dies. I got to thinking about it, and noticed that in almost every, if not all, great love stories someone dies. Is this just the way it's always been? From Romeo and Juliet to P.S. I love you. It makes me wonder if that's what it takes for people to realize what they had, and how great or how amazing it was. It's sad that sometimes it takes a death of a family member or your love to really know how much they ment to you. Maybe it's a lesson to everyone to look around and start focusing on what they do have, rather than what they're missing.
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