My great-grandparents. You see, my great-grandpa was divorced by his first wife shortly after he returned from forced labour in Germany, where he was located during WW2. Somehow, he met his second wife, the only great-grandma from this side I've ever had the honour to know and call family, and they made each other complete, like two halves of one piece. Together they went through the tragedy of their only child being stillborn, together they went through the sickness and health, and were together for over 60 years before death did them part. Sure, they had their moments when they would drive each other nuts, but they never let those moments drive them apart; always trading kisses, holding hands and smiling at each other, as if the other had been the only one in the whole of the world.
Anyone who says true love does not exist must be having a very sad, sad life; or at least a life devoid of such loving examples.