I know by now people are so over hearing about Hurricane Harvey, believe me, I get it.
I promise you I am tired of living it, but living it I am.
I am not sure if it’s getting easier or just that you get to a point you are so numb that the devastation doesn’t register anymore.
Each day we work a little here and there trying to get life back to the way it was or at least to a level of normalcy.
My new normal…. I have had a few of those in my life, but I find that with each new situation it gets harder to bounce back.
It’s hard to watch your family, friends, neighbors and yourself bag up their life and toss it to the curb for trash pickup.
It’s hard to drive to the store and see house after house with the same story, their whole life sitting on the side of the road waiting for heavy trash to pick it up and take it away.
It’s hard, it’s heartbreaking and it’s real.
As my family and I are looking for bits and pieces of our life, we are finding things that do not belong to us.
Bills, trash, items, baby books and so many things you can’t count.
You save what you think may be important hoping to find the owner but for the most part, you throw it away along with your ruined items.
But occasionally, you find something that brings you to your knees and stops you in your tracks.
Especially something that is becoming a lost form of communication.
Writing letters. Hand-written letters!
While my daughter was cleaning up her yard, picking up trash and finding little important pieces of her life, she came across some mail.
Her first instinct was to toss it in the garbage, but something stopped her.
She said mainly it was because it was heavier than most mail.
So there in her yard covered in dirt and sweat, time stands still as we all continue with our missions.
She opens it to find a beautifully handwritten letter that is three pages long.
Something that is rarely done anymore, our forms of communication have become as cold hearted as society seems to be becoming.
It’s addressed to “My Own Darling Wife”
As you hold the letter and read each letter you can feel the love and emotions, it’s heart wrenching and beautiful at the same time.
Then midway you look up at the date because you realize that the letter is from a military man to his wife.
Is it from someone in Afghanistan, Persian Gulf, Desert Storm, oh my, could it be from Vietnam?
I promise you I am tired of living it, but living it I am.
I am not sure if it’s getting easier or just that you get to a point you are so numb that the devastation doesn’t register anymore.
Each day we work a little here and there trying to get life back to the way it was or at least to a level of normalcy.
My new normal…. I have had a few of those in my life, but I find that with each new situation it gets harder to bounce back.
It’s hard to watch your family, friends, neighbors and yourself bag up their life and toss it to the curb for trash pickup.
It’s hard to drive to the store and see house after house with the same story, their whole life sitting on the side of the road waiting for heavy trash to pick it up and take it away.
It’s hard, it’s heartbreaking and it’s real.
As my family and I are looking for bits and pieces of our life, we are finding things that do not belong to us.
Bills, trash, items, baby books and so many things you can’t count.
You save what you think may be important hoping to find the owner but for the most part, you throw it away along with your ruined items.
But occasionally, you find something that brings you to your knees and stops you in your tracks.
Especially something that is becoming a lost form of communication.
Writing letters. Hand-written letters!
While my daughter was cleaning up her yard, picking up trash and finding little important pieces of her life, she came across some mail.
Her first instinct was to toss it in the garbage, but something stopped her.
She said mainly it was because it was heavier than most mail.
So there in her yard covered in dirt and sweat, time stands still as we all continue with our missions.
She opens it to find a beautifully handwritten letter that is three pages long.
Something that is rarely done anymore, our forms of communication have become as cold hearted as society seems to be becoming.
It’s addressed to “My Own Darling Wife”
As you hold the letter and read each letter you can feel the love and emotions, it’s heart wrenching and beautiful at the same time.
Then midway you look up at the date because you realize that the letter is from a military man to his wife.
Is it from someone in Afghanistan, Persian Gulf, Desert Storm, oh my, could it be from Vietnam?
No way, then you see it, clear as day…
August 3, 1945…
Today is September 10, 2017
That is 72 years ago….
The oldest living member of our family now is only 63 years old.
Everyone is trying to figure out when and where and then it hits you…
WORLD WAR II
World War II period was from September 1, 1939 – September 2, 1945
The emotions begin to take over when you realize it isn’t only someone’s personal love and memento you are holding in your hand, but something that is part of history also.
Written during a time of war, mailed during a time of war and surviving a life time of no telling what to end up on some stranger's driveway 72 years later.
There are no words to express the emotions and thoughts going through you.
There is so much to be grateful for today, so much that there are not enough words to tell you…
But what I am most grateful for is that the fates choice the perfect place for this beautiful place to land.
In the hands of people who treasure family and love.
In the hands of people who treasure history.
In the hands of people who treasure family mementos and memories.
In the hands of people who have suffered tremendously over the years and appreciate the little things in life.
In the hands of people who will treasure this letter forever.
In the hands of people who will do whatever it takes to put this family treasure back into the rightful owner’s hands as they battle to piece their own lives back together.
For as long as I live I will be thankful that during such a challenging time in our lives we were able to see that love does with stand the trials and tribulations and will survive a lifetime…
This letter was discovered on September 10, 1995, my grandson's Hunter 22nd birthday, by my daughter whose love and determination made sure that a baby who was only supposed to live a few months lived to be a grown man who was able to experience such an amazing thing on his birthday.
Out of respect to the author, recipient and their families history, I am not showing the letter in its entirety.
Today I am grateful to have family to make memories with.
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