As I sit here writing you a second letter in one day, I remember again when you were in the army. I wrote to you every day and sometimes twice a day. You would tell me later that days would go by and you would not receive any mail from me. Then the mail master would come and dump a pile of my letters on your cot. You said all of the guys in your squadron were jealous that you got so much mail when they didn't. So honey. If there's a mail master where you are now, you can expect my letters to be dumped once again on your cot.
I wish there was someone I could be mad at over your leaving. I wish I could rant and rave at God, but I don't believe it was God that took you. I can't claim your leaving to be unfair, when everyday others lose those they love. Instead my Darling, I choose to believe that it was in the pre-existance that we wrote the stories of our lives. We wrote each page including the joy, excitement, sadness, disappointments, successes and failures that we would experience in our living out the pages. I believe it was in a time before that you decided you would see me walking to school and decide I would be the one you would love. And I would accept an invitation for a blind date and know that this boy would be the one I would want to spend the rest of my life with. Not just this life but any I have.
I am thankful for the God that I believe in; that He allowed us to live the life written. That He allowed us to make our choices both good and bad and that through that experience I would walk my life with you.
So my love, since I have no one to be mad at, I will simply wait. I will wait for the pain to subside. I will wait for time to heal. And I will wait until I am with you again.
Far Beyond the 12th of Never.