April 20-23 2005

Throughout our marriage, Gabriella and I have had our ups and downs; this was 
always reflected through the letters that I wrote to her.  I have always been 
able to clear my thoughts by writing letters to Gabriella, and over the years I 
wrote her hundreds of them.  Even in the worst of times, a simple letter could 
almost be a cure-all.  Admittedly, my letters have never solved all of our 
problems, but I like to think that they contributed significantly to keeping us 
together when times were hard.

She's gone now.  We're no longer together to soothe one another, or to cuddle 
together to get through the hard times.  We had our differences, and Oh, what 
differences!, but even in difficult times we were here for one another.  
Gabriella was my best friend, and I was hers.  We shared some amazing times.  
We raised an amazing son.  And, of course, this is all cliché.  But what else 
was I going to say?  Well, there is one more thing.  I've written Gabriella one 
more letter.  Just one last letter to Gabriella... for old times sake...


Dear Gabriella,

You know, I'm crying as I'm writing this to you.  I can't believe that you're 
gone now.  I can picture you in my mind's eye reading this letter outside on 
the front porch while you're smoking a cigarette, your feet cross-legged under 
you on that ugly folding chair of yours.  I wish that you were here right now 
so that I could talk about this with you.  Imagine talking about your own death 
with me!

These past three months couldn't come close to preparing me for what happened 
on our ninth wedding anniversary.  You know, when I got the call from your 
nursing home I thought it was no big deal.  Nowhere in my entire mind was there 
even a twinge of a thought that you might have passed away during the night.

You've always thought that you're body was working against you.  You were so 
afraid that you would lose your sight because of PXE.  I promised you that no 
matter whatever happened in our future together that I would be there for you, 
that I would tend to you regardless of how our rocky marriage turned out.  I 
always pictured myself taking care of you when you got older, and reading to 
you when you couldn't see.  I never imagined that I would be reading to you 
when you were just thirty-two years old.

I'm writing this as the last letter to you, but I'm not going to finish it.  
You've meant too much to me for that.  While I don't really have you, my baby, 
to talk to anymore, and though we can't share our dream of visiting the ruins 
of Ancient South America together- I'll always hold you in my heart and love 
you forever.

Your husband,
Adam