There will be a point long in the future where there will be no matter left whatsoever. Hundreds of thousands of millions of billions of trillions of years will have gone by before the last bit of physical existence reaches its un-being.

When that happens, it will mark the end of time having any meaning.

The theory of relativity states that you can move through time, and you can move through space, but there is a limit to how quickly you can move through either, and moving quicker through one slows down your movement through the other.

If I die before the end of time, I will have failed to love you until that point. So I have come up with a plan. I have figured out a way to love you forever.

If we can truly reach the full speed of light, then for us, time will stop. The universe will spin itself apart, into oblivion, while we careen towards that ending, hand in hand. We will reach the end of time in an instant. And I will have loved you forever.

But at the end of time, there is no beauty left for us to experience together. There will be nothing to show you. There will be nothing at all apart from us. It will have been an eternal love, but in name only. A love so full, so complete, that it is utterly empty and as meaningless as time after the end of everything.

So I think that I will take my chances and stay right here on this planet until I die of natural causes, an infinitesimal distance from here to the end of time, a time so short it may as well not have even happened.

I regret to tell you that I cannot love you forever, but instead only for an instant.

In that instant, we will know a lifetime of joy.