The Letter

I found the letter on the hall table after he left. Now its pages are tear-stained and creased. He wrote that he loved me, that he would miss me. He wrote that if the worst happened I was to continue with my life. He wanted me to find happiness with someone else, to build a life and a family.

No word from him yet. No word from his superiors either. There is still hope. I will not give up on that. I’ll wait. Wait until I have definite word before I begin to grieve.

My life is not yet dead.