think of all the opportunities I have missed over the years to write you love
letters, purchase Hallmark cards, send you flowers. I always thought that
was supposed to be your department since romance seems to fall in the “male
What nonsense! I know how important it is for you to know how much I love
you and so I am writing this to you secretly - hopefully to give it to you
when I am well, but if that is not part of God’s plan, when you are
in that alone place you will at least have my words, and with them my hope
for some measure of comfort.
With these words, Debby begins a journal to Tom, writing that spans a nearly
eight month period from her diagnosis of cancer to the end of her life. Given
the journal only after her death, Tom writes his response, ending with these
words more than a year later:
So it is here that I will end what you began when you picked up an empty notebook
late one night and began to tell our story. It’s a beautiful story with
one really tough chapter, but a story with the last chapters yet to be written.
We will yet write them together. It will be finished with my hands, but they
will be hands that you first held and then shaped to fit your own. It will
flow from my heart, but it will be a heart that you softened and prepared
for its purpose. I have no more words for the expression of my love or my
gratitude. The days that remain of this life, the work yet to be done will
be my response – my “thank you” for a gift beyond
measure, the gift of the life we shared.
Enter this story to gain insights into life’s possibilities for love,
dealing with lossand a healing process that is genuine, incomplete and yet
full of hope for the future.
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