Forever Love Letters

There was an old hosiery box that my mother kept in her dresser drawer. The box was held tightly closed by a couple of rubber bands. I found it one day while looking for a pen. I was curious as to what might be inside so I opened it. I found some old air mail letters wrapped carefully in several sheets of pink tissue paper. I could tell my mother had gone to that box and retrieved those letters many times because the tissue paper was very wrinkled. The letters had been written to her by my dad while he was in Europe fighting in World War II. She and the love of her life planned to marry as soon as the war was over, and he returned home.

I am sure those letters were very special to her when she first read them, but when I finally read them I realized that they were special to her in a different way because my dad had been dead for almost thirty years. He was only 54 when he passed away; she was 56. Many years later when mom was in her early eighties she moved in with my wife and me. Our house had a private living area just right for someone who needed a little help. Unfortunately, she only lived with us for three days. My mother had cancer and had to undergo surgery. After surgery she went to rehab, and from there she went to a nursing home where she lived until she died at age 87. My mother lived for thirty-two years without the only man she ever loved.

Mom's belongings remained at our house until after she died. Occasionally I would see that hosiery box, and I wondered what my dad could have written? Even as an adult I couldn’t imagine my dad writing love letters. But I just couldn’t bring myself to open the box again and read them. I felt like I would be violating my parents privacy. Every time I ran across that box I thought of the love my parents had for each other. About ten years passed before I finally got the courage to read the words my dad wrote to my mom. I finally realized that I needed to do it, and I’m glad I did. My dad wrote the letters while in Germany, France, Austria, and probably other places he didn’t mention. I learned things about my dad that he never mentioned to my brother and me.

My dad hated the war, and he hated the Germans even more. He witnessed some terrible things. He told about two boys in his tank division who were killed. The other three in the tank surrendered only to be put in a ditch and shot by the Germans. My dad was a sergeant and the boys he mentioned were under him. But he really didn’t write much about the horrors of war. He wrote about how much he missed my mother, how he loved her and how he wished he was with her. He usually said, “How’s my little girl?”  She was five feet tall and tiny. He would continue, “I remember those wonderful nights when we were together. I wish I was with you tonight.” I could feel his loneliness while in that terrible dangerous place, seeing terrible things, away from friends and family, but most of all being away from the woman he loved fearing that he might never see her again.

Reading the letters I understood why she carefully wrapped them, cherishing them as a treasure. I can imagine her in her older years, once again away from him, reading them again and again as she did in her twenties reading them for the first time. The message was the same, but my dad was in a different place, a much better place. Mom would read anew, “How’s my little girl tonight? I still remember those wonderful nights we were together. I wish you were with me here tonight in this beautiful place. I’m waiting for you.”

Tonight as I write this I can imagine them together in heaven. Oh how wonderful the love of a man and a woman who both love Jesus! Glory be to God who brings one man and one woman together to form an unbreakable bond in marriage. That has always been God’s only plan for marriage and for the family.