A guy-friend once told me a story. He'd been dating a girl, maybe for close to a year. They were monogamous, pretty serious, but there'd been no commitment talk yet.
One night, the girl my friend was dating (aka, GMFWD) got a call from her sister. Her sister had hit a pedestrian and killed him. It wasn't her fault at all. But it was extremely traumatic, nonetheless: The pedestrian's head went through the windshield of the sister's car; he was beheaded in the process, and his brains splattered throughout the car.
Once the police got through investigating, the car was released to the sister. It wasn't evidence or anything; she was free to keep the thing. Only, it had brains splattered all over it.
The sister was, obviously, freaked out. She called her sister, the GMFWD. The GMFWD, not knowing what the heck to do, called her boyfriend/my friend... My friend got in touch with the sisters' dad. (Both girls were close to the dad, but hadn't wanted to involve him in such a matter.) The dad and my friend then got together and spent a day cleaning the splattered brains out of the car to render it drivable again. (The family wasn't well off. They couldn't simply dump the cursed car and get a new one. THIS one had to continue to be used.)
That -- in its most elemental form -- is love. Having someone in your life who is willing to literally scrub the brains out of your sister's car.
While I am very grateful for not having ever been faced with such a horrid scenario as the above, I am also envious. What would experiencing such pure love and devotion feel like? In the face of the most extreme, to know that you are protected and loved...