Take a box of cotton and keep it ready. You may need it to wipe your tears reading this real life story of this 62 year old man. Story taken from a confession page

I recently signed up for Facebook, and to be honest I don't like it  much. It's not very recreational and I haven't really been able to  connect with many old friends, but then I guess they didn't make  Facebook keeping a 62 year old man who lives in a quiet place like  Nanital in mind. When I saw this page, I was left dumbstruck for a  while. The photo at the top of both schools which played such an  important role in my life made me shamelessly nostalgic.When I look back  and compare this page with today, I feel bitter, unabashedly bitter.  

Things were very tough when I was in school (1969).There I was a young  Bihari boy with a hint of mustache, rather skinny but let me tell you  very handsome. My dad used to teach in the Regional Intisute of  Technology. In the evenings he used to teach Maths and Physics to school  going students. There was where I first met her. I still remember it,  she was wearing a Peacock salwar and a white kameez. A little dark  complexioned (very slight), and she had the prettiest eyes you will ever  see. I fell for her right there. 

It took me quite a few months to talk  to her. She used to study in Convent. She was a very simple girl and I  was shivering head to toe when I first approached her with a red rose.  Suprisingly she said yes the first time it self. I used to write a  letter to her every  second day and give it to her when she came for  tuitions. She used to give me the reply letter for the last one. It  continued on for almost 3 years, until it was finally time for us to  leave for colleges. I met her before leaving for IIT Bombay in front of  the Beldih Lake. That was the first time I kissed her. Though I don't  remember much of it, our hearts were racing in fear of getting caught.  

Somehow we both were sure that whatever we had between us  would last, and last very long.She was going to a local college and I  was off to Bombay.That first year was the most difficult of my entire  life. I had the constant worry when I would see her again, and that  she  would have moved to another city or changed her mind about me. The  rains of happiness showered when she was there at Platform 3, Tatanagar  Junction waiting for me. We sat together in the Auto on our way back,  first dropping me at my place then hers. Those were the first best 15  minutes of my life. We would sneak and meet every day in Jubilee park or  Sakchi during the semester breaks. This happened every year until the  end of college. I was the only one in my wing who used to long the  entire year to go home. 

College ended and I got a job in BHEL. It was a  good job and they gave me a house in Delhi to work there. I knew it was  time.The first thing I did when I came back was meet her, and show her  the appointment letter. And before I was going to do it, she said it,  ʺHamein Shaadi kar laine chaiya na.ʺ That was the last time, I remember  being so happy.However we both knew this was not as easy as simply  deciding it. She was South Indian and I was a Bihari. Family issues were  bound to happen. However I thought my good job and a pretty neat income  would do the trick.I left for Delhi to join my new job. I would come  back a month later and we would approach our parents together. She  didn't do that. 

She had approached her parents about me and they shipped  her off to Chennai.When I returned and I came to know about this, I  rushed to Chennai against my parents wishes. It took me three days to  get there.  Those were the worst 72 hrs in my life. Not knowing what  would happen next, I didn't eat or sleep. When I reached it took me a  while to find her. I finally did, in T.T.M Mandapam. She was getting  married to an engineer from her hometown.The way she looked at me when I  entered their house. I knew I had lost. Amidst all her uncles and  relatives and her father shouting and threatening me, the only thing  that convinced me that I had lost, was when she folded her hands and  cried for me to leave. And I left.

Today she has 2 kids, one son married  and other son in the States. She also has a grandchild, a girl. She  lives in Hyderabad. Every year for the 39 years, I have gone to see her.  I don't meet her or make her even aware that I am there. I don't want  her to feel ashamed. I guess I live my life through her. I never knew  why she didn't have the incentive to fight that I had. I guess I will  never know.I am 62, unmarried, retired, live alone in a three bedroom  cottage, and today reading through this confession page, I wonder  whether I made the right choice? 

After that day when I returned from  Chennai, I decided I will never let anyone take her place. Was I  arrogant and foolish? Today I see couples ʺbreaking upʺ and ʺgetting  committedʺ every now and then. But I just couldn't do it. I couldn't  even imagine anyone else in her place.I guess people have forgotten what  commitment truly is and how loud is the sound of a breaking heart. But  in a way it is good, people remain happier these days, they don't give  up entirely on love after losing it once. It's good to see society has  changed and evolved.Wish it would have done so sooner.

 - Author unknown

 Source [ Loyola Convent Confession Post #778]