Dear Jame,
you’re right in the other room but in this sickness you are very far. the angels are tickling me. i have the Phillies on the radio. the white noise of the ballpark and the relaxed voice of the play by play announcer as the pitches come in are my own personal “Field of Dreams” that passes through my ache with calm. Tulip is taking care of me. laying with me and purring my trauma away. the strokes of this pen easing me as though i am caressing you with every word. and i can already sense you reading this with your holy pithy for my condition with heavy marble blue eyes about to cry. just remember how sweet the grass was in Hershey and how sweet those long ago days unfurl in front of you. i can’t say things will get better but i’d like to. God is here with me when i cough and tremble. i feel Him and His mercy. i hear His prayers to the Father on my behalf as sugar nursery rhyme dreams that i taste on my tongue. heaven is always there Jame even in the midst of these fires from hell burning us both alive in our separation. hold onto your cross tightly.
Your loving husband,
Dan
