Love may be all there is. The Beatles, the Bible, Thornton Wilder all thought so. But so many times it just isn't enough. I can tell from the love letters that are now in my possession that he loved her, but he was unable to undo what had gone before. He couldn't bring himself ultimately to do what might have confirmed his love to her. He continued to proclaim his undying love until......yes, until the time he died, some years ahead of her. She kept the letters, though, until her death. Forgotten perhaps, or could have been as a link to one who cared about her. Those links become thinner as time passes, and memories become more precious.
What to do with those letters. I've already thrown them away, then retrieved them. I have no link to him except as a casual acquaintance, but through his words to her, I sense her presence. He wanted to spend the last part of his life with her, to be near her. It makes me picture her as warm and alive.......
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