[Finding Emma 01.5] Dear Jack Read Online Free Page B

Daddy got our letters and pictures. He knew we loved him, right?”
    You knew, right? How much we loved you and missed you? How much we wanted you to come home? How proud of you we were?
    It’s hard for me to write in the past tense. Loved. Missed. I still love you Jack. I still miss you. I still want you to come home and I’m still proud of you. So very proud of the man you are. That will never change. That will never go away.
    I’m not sure how I can go on, now knowing you won’t ever come home. How am I supposed to sleep tonight, knowing your hands will never hold mine again, that your body will never snuggle up to me and keep me warm in the middle of the night?
    I hope you don’t expect me to turn out like the women in town, needy and looking for support any way they can? You were my family, there’s no one else to run to. No one who can help me out. No one but myself to ensure I remain strong. No one else to hold me up when all I want to do is fall apart. No one else to make sure Mary grows up to be a strong woman.
    I love you Jack, but I’ll be honest, there’s a part of me that hates you too. I’m mad. Angry. Angry that you would leave us to fight a war that didn’t affect us. Furious that you would put your own pride above the needs of your family — above me and Mary. Couldn’t you see that we needed you more than they did? Let someone else fight in your place. That’s what I should have said to you before you left. I should have fought harder to keep you home.
    You broke your promise to me. And I want to hate you for that.
    Except, I can’t.
    It’s not your fault that you had to break your promise. I can’t blame you for another man’s actions. Jonathan didn’t know how you died, just that you didn’t return with your squadron after a routine walkabout. Whatever that means. How can a walkabout in enemy territory be routine?
    I’m not ready to accept that you’re never coming home to me. I’m not sure that I’ll ever be ready to accept that.
    I’m not willing to let go. Not yet.
     
    I love you Jack Henry.
     

 
     
    Dear Jack.
     
    Happy birthday!
    I know it doesn’t matter any more, but Mary and I have been planning what we would do to celebrate your birthday since last year and it was too hard to just sit at home and pretend this day never existed.
    First thing first. We made you your favorite cake and pie. Actually, if truth be told, Mary made the cake and I made the pie. German chocolate cake, along with a side of dutch apple pie with a bit of caramel. We left the cake and pie to cool on the counter and took off.
    One of Mary’s best memories of you is how you would take us on adventures every Sunday. It’s not something I’ve kept up but I’ll try to. Maybe not every weekend, but at least once a month. I let Mary choose all the turns and we ended up down a little side road west of Kinrich. We followed the trail as far as we could go and then climbed down. We found a quaint little private beach with no houses in sight.
    It’s really a beautiful place, Jack. You would have liked it. Even Mary said so. We haven’t said goodbye to you officially yet, and I’m not sure if we will. I’m not sure I ever can. I still stare down the road, waiting for the gust of dirt to billow behind a vehicle that I’m sure is bringing you home to me. Even though it’s never you, I keep praying that one day it will be.
    Mary and I dug our feet into the sand and relaxed. It was nice. She chattered away, telling me stories, asking me questions…I kept picturing you there with us, the smile on your face as you listened to her talk. We stayed there for about an hour. At one point, Mary fell asleep on the beach so I went and stood in the water, the stones beneath my feet, and I thought about you.
    That was one of Mary’s questions — if you were at the other end of the water. I told her you were, somewhere. She wanted to put a message in a bottle for you, something Doug had told her about, but I told