Today I received a Christmas Greeting from you. Just a wobbly signature on a purchased card. No longer do I get pages filled with news. I wish I had kept all of your letters. I think our letters would have encircled the globe if they were laid end to end.
So many years of letter writing, the black line of ink that travelled from you to me and back would stretch for miles out of sight if we could untangle it from the pages.
Your letters became less frequent as your illness diminished your confidence and ability to write. And now you are unable to do the smallest things without help. I feel guilty that I have so much of what you have lost. Even if I could give some back to you, you are not able to receive it. I don’t want to tell you that I am having a good time, when for you every move is an effort. My calendar is full. My life is busy. I treasure days I have at home at home when I see no one. I will write to you about the weather and complain about the television but I don’t say too much about what I do.
I will tell you about my dogs, the garden, what I have written and what my girls are doing. I miss our sharing and your visits here. But I won’t say these things to you when I write today.
Because by telling you how much I miss the things that we shared I might make you more aware of how much you have lost. I wish you the peace of Christmas, dear Friend.
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