The Last Letter

I needed a fresh start, a clean slate, describe it however you would, I needed a do-over. Plain and simple. It became increasingly difficult to wake up each day staring at the memories and living in them forgetting life was moving on. Today was the day - the day I was going to fulfil our dream - his dream of moving to the mountains. I never really understood why he found solace in that place. I always thought it was too quiet and boring but I would do anything to be in the same space with him - to share the same air he breathed, to feel him really close.

The door let out a light squeak as the caretaker opened it. I could see how delighted she was to have me. Although she couldnt hide the pity in her eyes, I ignored it all and let her walk me through the nice little cabin. She mentioned countlessly to call her without hesitation whenever I needed anything. Of course I told her I would. I just wanted to be alone. I would say anything to be alone at that moment.

I shouldn’t have but I imagined what it would have been like if Josh came with me. I knew I was going to cry and I did. I tried to hold the tears back but I couldn't so I just let it all out. I fell on to the floor and cried my eyes out hugging myself till I passed out.

I don’t know how long I had passed out for but I woke up to a really dark room. I groped around in the dark for my bags till I found my phone in one of the pockets. It wasnt a big place so that was fairly easy. I thought it was probably time to explore so I turned on the torchlight in my phone and began to wander.

The bedroom was small. But the bed was big enough for Josh and I. I thought. I sat on the edge and felt the sheets. Soft. Cozy. Just how Josh liked it. I let out a heavy sigh and went on to the next room. It was a small office with a desk and chair right in the middle. I went around the setting and sat down. I opened the two drawers on the left. Empty. I opened the only one on the right. It was rather large but it turned out empty. I didn’t know what I was hoping to find but that disappointment came out as a heavy push in closing the drawer. Then a thud followed right under the desk. I looked down. It was a light pile of envelopes tied with a red ribbon.

They looked very old and dusty. The first envelope had “M.” written in cursive on the bottom right. Letters maybe. I grabbed them and made my way to the living room. I turned on the lamps and snuggled under one of Josh’s favorite blanket on the couch. I opened the first envelope.

“…Henry, my beloved. The memory of your voice remains ever vivid in my mind. The gentle softness of your lips, the silken touch of your blonde hair—these tender recollections I hold dear and have not forgotten.…”

I got lost in the words on the sheet of paper. The words warmed my heart although they weren’t addressed to me even though it felt like it did. I carefully opened the second envelope. This had “H.” written at the top left.

“I miss you dearly. It feels as though this longing is squeezing the very life out of me. I yearn to feel your skin next to mine once more. When this war is over, I shall cherish every second spent with you thereafter...”

It became obvious. These were letters between two lovers, Henry and Margaret during the time of the World War. These two were in love. It reminded me of everything I shared with Josh. I didnt cry this time. I smiled. There was a tinge of happiness somewhere inside of me. It felt good knowing there were people who experienced what I did. Their love was genuine and it was painted in every word in these letters and I couldn’t get enough of it.

“My dearest Margaret. I regret that this letter must be brief. I have just received word of my sudden transfer to another camp. I hear that correspondence will not be possible from there, so this will be my last letter. Always remember my love for you. Take heart in the thought of the war's end, for then you shall see your love again. Be well.”

And that was Henry’s last letter to Margaret.

Did he make it back? Did they finally get to be together? What happened to Margaret? I had a thousand and one questions running in my head. 2:54 am. That was the time I finished reading the letters. I experienced a lot of things reading those letters that I almost forgot what I was going through and it felt good. I had to find out what happened. This was my resolve before I finally called it a night after a long day.

The next morning, I made my way into the small town. Everyone smiled at me, nodded and greeted me. I guess word travels fast in small town such as this. I walked into the only coffee shop I saw around. If I wanted to find Margaret, this coffee shop was the best place to start. Luckily for me, I saw the caretaker who helped me settle seated at one of the tables. I said hi and made small talk. It was time to ask if she knew any Margaret who would be in her 80s by now. She did! She shared her address with me and I went on to find her.

Why was I doing all this? I wish I knew. Maybe because I felt the sudden loss Margaret experienced when she read Henry’s last letter. Maybe I needed to talk to someone who shared in my pain, my distraught and sadness. After three knocks on the door, it opened. There stood this petite old lady. She didn’t look sad or devastated or broken. She looked okay.

She welcomed me in and offered tea. It was real good. I introduced myself and told her about the letters I found. She smiled for about a minute and asked if I came looking for her wanting to find out what happened. I was surprised she guessed that but yes, I told her that was why I came.

She told me about how she met Henry, how he enlisted to be a soldier to fight in the war. She gave specific dates she received his letters and could almost remember the exact words on each of them just as I had read them. This was true love, I thought. I could see the joy on her face as she narrated everything to me. I sat there grabbing my hot cup of tea and listened on.

She finally reached the last letter and I propped myself up to listen. ”He never came back…” was what followed.

How? Why?

She narrated how she waited 3 months after the war ended for her beloved Henry to return. She went to their offices each day to wait for him. She wrote countless times to the new and old camps he was at. Nothing. He just vanished from the face of the earth. 3 months turned into 2 years, then into 5, into 20 and then 40 years

Tears swelled up in my eyes. She saw it and passed me a couple of tissues.

“When I finally realised Henry was never going to come back, I decided to leave the cabin 3 years ago to make a life for myself” she said.

I was surprised. She made that realisation only 3 years ago? What was she doing all this while? Waiting?

“I don’t regret waiting for Henry all these years. I only regret holding on so hard to the past that I forgot to live. I know you lost someone. It’s why you’re here. Take this from me, they would want you to keep living as if they were here.”

After the longest talk, I excused myself to leave. She walked me out. I asked for a hug which she obliged. She felt warm. She wished me the best and I took my leave.

When I got home, there was this sense of relief. The loss I felt felt okay. It felt warranted. I packed my bags almost immediately and left for the city. I knew Josh would want me to live my life doing everything that made me happy. I was going for that.