By Dear friends,
Edith told me it was “the essence of my life in one poem: I felt so loved, ever since. My most magnificent birthday.”
That was my Edith’s last birthday. We had a feeling it was going to be so, but she never complained…that was my Edith.
As much as I loved her, I was never able to tell her many words, being a man of long silences. But I loved her truly and with my deepest self. I think, at times, she had to interpret my love. You immediately understood me and who Edith was to me: my favourite schoolmate, the only fiancée I ever had, my caring wife of 55 years. In two hundred and thirty seven vocables, you made her eternal, in all her beauty and delicacy. Edith was the most beautiful woman I ever knew. And if I never tripped, if I always kept balance, if life’s endeavors always seemed less heavy, I owe it to her.
She was my light. I miss her terribly.
Thank you for understanding how important all the words I wanted to tell her but never managed to, truly were, particularly at that stage. It gives me peace that she knew.
It was her most magnificent birthday, indeed. I know, I was with her since we were only six.
Gratefully yours,
Samuel C., Bedfordshire – UK
