Epilogue

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Sunday, April 3, 1921

My Beloved Pegleg,

Daphne finally wore me down and managed to persuade me to write to you. I' admit knowing you'll never read this makes me feel foolish, and I've half a mind to throw it in the bin this instant.

I've sat at my desk, staring at this paper for several hours tonight, choosing the words I allow my pen to scratch with such meticulous care that one would think I was writing a speech to be read before the world and recorded in the annals of history.

Do I talk of the day you left? No, I shrink from those memories. And yet, I struggle to speak of what it's like now that you're gone.

There's not a moment over this past year where I haven't thought of you, pined for your touch, or ached for another blissful day spent with you. But even I know the wisdom in heaven refusing such a wish. Should it ever be granted, I'd be incapable of allowing you to leave me again.

I've decided the problem with sitting at one's desk, writing letters to lost loved ones, is it gives one an unhealthy amount of time to think and dwell on the past.

And that's what I've spent the last hour doing. Staring at this damn sheet of paper, the words so carefully crafted in black ink they now bleed into one another, coalescing into your beloved likeness before my very eyes as your words echo within my mind.

It feels like eons have passed since you asked me, 'What if this is the beginning of something better than you could ever dream?'

And you, wise woman that you were, were right—it is because of you that my life exceeded anything I could have ever imagined. At least for the short time I held you in my arms.

Are you watching over the children and me? I admit there have been many times I've been sure you were here with me.

I miss you. Oh, how poorly those three words fail to express the intensity your absence is felt.

I love you, my dearest; I'll always love you.

Forever yours,

Everett

To be Continued...

Coming Soon:

Into The Sunshine
Of Love and Loss Series: Book Two


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