How’s life with the 22nd? I keep reading all about it. It certainly looks a lot different to life here in Charleston. I want you to know that not a day goes by that I don’t miss you. Every morning I wake up and I look beside me and I cry, because you’re not there. I can feel myself growing old, all the while waiting for you.
I can’t do that John. I just can’t do it. I can’t sit around and wait for you to come home. I can’t wait for the knock on the door and a general delivering the news that you’ve been injured or died. I can’t do it John.
This isn’t because I don’t love you. This isn’t me going back on my promise to wait for you. I am waiting. You’re the one who’s not. You just go off and leave me behind. My heart can’t take it any more.
I planned so much for this stupid letter, but sitting here writing it, it’s just too hard. It all boils down to this anyway. John, I love you. I always have and I always will. But this is too much for me. I can’t do it. I’m not strong enough.
I love you, John. Goodbye.
The Idiot In Tin Foil