One Last Time

                       

I’ve nothing left of my dead husband except for a flute and his last letter. I gave away all his belongings. He’d never uttered his last wish but I knew this was all he needed to rest peacefully in the lap of heaven. People wonder what sort of a woman or wife I am. Actually more than a wife, now I’m the woman who knows what that man lived his life for. As a wife, I couldn’t be what he might have wished. I complained. I wailed every night cursing my fate. I resented him for his absence. My words of pride for him were limited to the outside world. In private, I only cribbed.

The flute still carries every tune he’d ever composed, which I believe only I have the right to listen to and the letter... is the lone reason I’m alive.

You don’t need my advice to live life on your own. Why would you? Was I ever there for you? No. I was living life far away, ready to sacrifice it for people. I dedicated every bit of my being to this country. Thousands of people must be singing my praises now but only you’re missing my existence. After all, that was your only consolation. But honestly, deep beneath the uniform of a soldier, lay the heart of an unfortunate man who wished to see you one last time. Would I be who I was if you weren’t there for me?

                                                                     I love you...