A Letter...

"Tell me all about your foreign wars, and all about the photographs that line your drawers, 'cause I know a lot about closing doors, but not enough about what opens up yours..." -Andrew Belle

I suppose you wouldn't like that I don't open up much. Some symptom of trauma, you'd say. And you'd probably be right. But I still don't want to believe it. You've always known me far too well to believe even for a moment I'd accept something like that. I looked through your photographs again today. I know I shouldn't see some of those things again. I know what you'd say. But I missed you. I always miss you. And they may be the only thing I can have from you soon. There's talk of putting me in some home. They say the therapy isn't working well enough that I need to socialize more. They say I'm retreating into myself, getting depressed, relapsing. But I know they just want the house. They want the money. I'm no invalid. They talk about me like I'm not standing in the kitchen right next to them. I may not speak, but that doesn't mean I can't listen. I'm a human too. God, I miss you, Jeanne. The things you would say if you were here, if you could see those greedy little ingrates staring me down and hoping each bite, each breath, each beat of my heart is my last..... 

Those photographs in your desk. There's one of the two of us after I proposed. You look so happy. That's how I remember you now. You're that beautiful, joy-filled young lady who snatched my heart away. I like that image better than the one etched into the background of my mind.... all those months at the hospital, trying to hide your pain... You were still so beautiful. You told me you'd lived a full life, that you weren't afraid to go, that we'd grown old together the way we always wanted to. I should be content with that. But it seems I'm more selfish than you. I never wanted you to leave. I wanted to keep you for myself... 

I wonder sometimes why you keep all those photographs mixed up together. Ones of us on top of ones of battle fields on top of ones of our children on top of ones of the piles of corpses I built and burned... A soldier and a photographer. Who'd ever have guessed? Aside from my platoon, I mean. And probably the rest of the military, too. My men saw the way I looked at you, the way we talked when we could. I've told you before it was one of my men who convinced me to ask you on a date after we were both home, between the wars. I almost didn't. You were far too beautiful to ever say yes to me. But you did. Thank my lucky stars, you did.And then, some time years down the line, I found myself married to an angel, living a normal life, anchored to the ground by my beautiful love. It's gotten worse now that you're gone, you know. The nightmares. The visions in broad daylight again. All it takes is a loud noise and then... well, one day soon I may follow in your footsteps. 

Do you know how incredible it would be to be next to you again? I think that's what keeps me believing in an afterlife, believing that you can still read my letters. Just to be next to you again, my angel. To be with you. 

I have therapy again in an hour, but I wanted to write to you first. They're making me go nearly every day now instead of twice a week. Not Sundays-- they're still closed on Sundays-- and Saturdays are only for high risk and emergency patients. I suspect I may get one of those slots soon too if our kids have anything to say about it. Always acting like they know what's best... But don't you worry, my love. I'll be alright. Always have been, always will be. You're the love of my life, Jeanne. There's no one out there like you. Believe me, I've been close enough to all the edges of the world to see it. You were an angel among men and now... well at least now I know you're where you belong. With all the other saints and angels. With all the other stars. I'll leave your letter in the back of your drawer with the others. Tied up with twine like back in our army days. Try not to look at the war photographs when you get this. I'll leave the ones of us on top.

Always, Forever, and with all of my love,

Your Husband