My dear Henry,
It has been five years since you left this earth. At times, it feels like it was only yesterday; other times it feels like it’s been an eternity. I miss you every day, your smile, your easy ways, your strength of body and soul, your unwavering love for me.
Henry, I met someone a few weeks ago. His name is Samuel. Some ways he is like you, others not at all. He says he loved me as soon as he saw me. Does he? Can he? I know I’m not a beauty, have no special talents or assets, nothing that I can think of that would have drawn him to me.
When I add in that he is several years younger than me, famous, wealthy, and has younger, beautiful women shamelessly flirting with him, how can I believe he loves me? How can I trust him?
He knows I don’t trust him and that peeves him considerably. How can I trust him, Henry? We have known each other such a short time and I know so little about him besides his public persona that I’m afraid to trust him. You know how I am, Henry, how few people besides you I trust in any way.
Henry, my love for you is still as strong as when you were alive. How is it possible that I love Samuel more than I ever imagined I could love again? And therein lies some of my problems in trusting him, for right now I don’t trust my own heart.
This was so sudden. One day I was still adjusting to being alone, without you. The next day Samuel and I met at a benefit luncheon. My heart fluttered when we were introduced and he shook my hand; it had never done that with any man but you, Henry.
My lack of trust is turning into fear. I don’t know if it is the fear of loving again and not knowing if his love is as true as yours, Henry, or simply fear of the unknown. I don’t know which fear would be easier to overcome.
You know my heart is tender, Henry, how easily it can be broken, how easily it forgives. That has always been my curse, a heart that is caring and loving, and forgives too quickly. I am thankful God lent you to me for the time we had together; it showed me that someone did love me, completely and truly.
I love you, Henry.
It has been five years since you left this earth. At times, it feels like it was only yesterday; other times it feels like it’s been an eternity. I miss you every day, your smile, your easy ways, your strength of body and soul, your unwavering love for me.
Henry, I met someone a few weeks ago. His name is Samuel. Some ways he is like you, others not at all. He says he loved me as soon as he saw me. Does he? Can he? I know I’m not a beauty, have no special talents or assets, nothing that I can think of that would have drawn him to me.
When I add in that he is several years younger than me, famous, wealthy, and has younger, beautiful women shamelessly flirting with him, how can I believe he loves me? How can I trust him?
He knows I don’t trust him and that peeves him considerably. How can I trust him, Henry? We have known each other such a short time and I know so little about him besides his public persona that I’m afraid to trust him. You know how I am, Henry, how few people besides you I trust in any way.
Henry, my love for you is still as strong as when you were alive. How is it possible that I love Samuel more than I ever imagined I could love again? And therein lies some of my problems in trusting him, for right now I don’t trust my own heart.
This was so sudden. One day I was still adjusting to being alone, without you. The next day Samuel and I met at a benefit luncheon. My heart fluttered when we were introduced and he shook my hand; it had never done that with any man but you, Henry.
My lack of trust is turning into fear. I don’t know if it is the fear of loving again and not knowing if his love is as true as yours, Henry, or simply fear of the unknown. I don’t know which fear would be easier to overcome.
You know my heart is tender, Henry, how easily it can be broken, how easily it forgives. That has always been my curse, a heart that is caring and loving, and forgives too quickly. I am thankful God lent you to me for the time we had together; it showed me that someone did love me, completely and truly.
I love you, Henry.
Eleanor
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