Evidence of love

For many months now, I have worked hard to beleive that there was never any real love between us.  That maybe we were just infatuated and careless youths, acting on impulse and that even those things were fleeting.  funny how these things come back to haunt you...
I've been cleaning the garage to facilitate a workout, and some semblance of order in my life and wouldn't you know, I came across every letter we'd ever written to eachother, bundled up nicely and preserved in a keepsake box, with the scent of her perfume from way back when.  I think it was called "Happy."  The irony is not lost on me.  We WERE happy, for a little while, and then we were just stubborn and miserable, and wanting to be happy but unable to put our fingers on why we weren't and then-I don't know.  So much wasted time and so many things that could have gone differently.  It's beyond my understanding.
So now, amidst all the knick-knacks and toys and furniture of the kids, I am cruelly jerked back into reality and smothered by the realization that we killed our love, just as sure as we conceived it.  I don't know that I was ever "In Love" but as I look back on it I wonder what that would have actually meant for me back then.  I was so busy making sure she didn't wrap me around her finger that I never really fell, and then it wouldn't have mattered.
I don't know if that's what made it impossible, or if it was all the real stuff that came with it, but it's over now, and just like Mom and Ma both said, some days you'll be fine and then something will hit you and send you reeling, begging to recover so you don't lose your feet.  The evidence was literally all around me just now -- My wife loved me once, very much, and I loved her....