On the last Sunday of each month, he sits by the same window, with the same pen gathering his thoughts, and tells her everything, how the garden is doing, how their daughter finally bought that car, how quiet it’s been without her humming in the kitchen.
He told us:
“Some people light candles. I just write. It makes me feel like I’m still loving her. Still choosing her.”
He doesn’t write to get a reply.
He writes because some love doesn’t end. It just changes form.
And honestly? That’s what letters are for. To carry the feelings we still don’t know how to say out loud.
There’s someone you love like that. They’re alive. They’re with you. Or maybe they’re not. Either way, they should hear it.
We’ll help you say it beautifully. Thoughtfully. And fully.
