Read Letters from War for Free Online Page A

look that I’d never really seen before. I’d seen glimpses. At Vols games, for instance.Or when he was in his uniform. But nothing compared to that moment he held you in his arms and finally could see with his own eyes that he was holding his little boy.”
    A knot the size of a grapefruit quivered in James’s throat. He looked away from his mom. He didn’t want her to see the emotion in his face, the sadness and regret and hurt. James needed to be strong like his father. James needed to be strong for his family.
    â€œJames.” Her voice cracked and he looked at her. “I just spoke with your sister. I told her the same thing I’m going to tell you. My parents are still alive, so I don’t know exactly how you feel. All I know is this: there’s a reason that God took your father. We might never know that reason. But I know and I believe there is one. I want you to know that I’m here and that I love you. You understand?”
    He nodded and tried desperately to hold back the tears. He felt as if he was on the edge of a slippery, muddy canyon holding on even while inch by inch he slipped closer to dropping off. His hands were sweaty as he clenched them to avoid shaking.
    â€œI have something for you. Something your father wanted me to give you.”
    She gave him a long, white sealed envelope. It trembled when he took it.
    â€œI didn’t read it. He wrote one for each of us.”
    James nodded again, looking at the wall, unsurewhat to say. He wasn’t about to start reading it in front of his mom.
    â€œI’m sorry, James. I’m sorry that he’s gone.”
    There wasn’t anything else to do but hug her. He wasn’t touchy-feely. Hugs always made him feel childish and silly. Yet this was all he could think to do.
    The hug lasted a long time. More than anything, it felt important.
    â€œWhy don’t you come down in a little while? We’ll be in the kitchen. Grandma and Grandpa are coming over soon.”
    James watched her go out and close the door behind her. He hesitated to open the letter, unsure about reading words from a man now dead, afraid of how they might deepen the wound he felt.
    Then slowly, carefully, he opened the envelope and pulled out the paper inside.
    He recognized the orderly handwriting as he opened the folded letter.
    My dearest James:
    The last thing in the world you need now is more words. I am sure you will have heard enough by the time you read this letter.
    But, Son, I don’t write for your today. I write for your tomorrow. I write for the times when I should be there but can’t be. I write for the times when the world won’t make sense and I should be the one to make some sense of it.
    Life doesn’t make sense, James. Not this tiny little patch of life that we’re given. But life is a gift, and when God decides that it’s our time, there’s nothing we can do. We need to be thankful for what we’ve been given so far.
    Let me ask something of you.
    Do not be sad. Be strong.
    Do not let despair weigh you down. When you read these words, it might sound easy. Yet it may be tempting to wallow in what could have been. Instead, wake up tomorrow and be thankful. Know you are alive for a reason; you have a responsibility.
    I know you are twelve, but I tell you these things as if you were a man. I wish I had time to watch you grow into one.
    Your responsibility is to take care of your mother and your sister. Do not ask how. You will learn how. I know you can do this because I know you. I know your heart.You are strong, James. You are like your mother that way. I might be the one who served in the military but your mother is the one who showed her true strength.
    God will watch over the family and I hope that I will be able to as well. Your mother and sister will need your help.
    Do I ask too much on this day? No. Because you don’t have to start today.
    Today you start with yourself. Those feelings