My Last Love Letter To You

Honey, I’m sitting here in the parking lot with my heart in my throat. I’m so worried about you, so much so it takes my breath away.

It was so good to hear your voice over the phone. Your voice in my ear was an answer to prayer.

I love you so much and I wish I could be with you. Seeing them taking you away this morning haunts me.

I’ve been trying to get in touch with the nurse and was told she was busy helping you…of course my mind immediately thinks something horrible has happened.

I don’t want to live without you…you have to be okay.

Amanda has reached out many times and she is praying for you. The whole prayer team is praying and Jess reached out and sends her love and prayers. You have so many who love you.

It kills me that you are alone. I just want to sit beside you and hold your hand.

I’m still waiting to hear from your nurse, and as each second ticks by my chest tightens.

The kids are worried and are praying. Josh called and talked to me while I sat here in the hospital parking lot…alone. Beth is texting me a lot wanting updates. I think it’s safe to say that they love you.

Danica keeps whimpering…she knows something’s up. She’s too smart for her own good.

Well, just talked to your nurse! Good to know you are settled in your room. They have been so kind.

Okay, now getting a few things together for you and headed out to the hospital to give it to the man at the front desk.

Corinne, I love you much. You are my life so you better get better!

Take care of the lady I love. She’s very special to me.

I love you! Can’t wait to be with you.

Lisa

(I penned these words on 1/18/21 after I took Corinne to the emergency room for COVID related problems…she was struggling for each breath she pulled into her lungs. My last view of her was seeing them wheel her away, and as the space between us grew I heard her say, “I love you, Lis…” “I love you too, sweetie,” I replied. I was able to get this letter into her hands by dropping off a zip-lock bag of personal items with a gentleman at the front entrance. Of course I couldn’t go inside. The next day, 1/19/21, the love of my life died, and my heart broke into a million pieces.)

Thankful for the discernment to write this love letter to my love.

Acumen=Discernment

One Comment Add yours

  1. There are no words. Only sorrow. Lord, give her strength.

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