Don't Weep for Me

>> Wednesday, 22 August 2007

Dear Lauranne,

I hope you receive my letters; I’ve counted them, 365 of them, one for each day. Some are long, some are short. I hope you receive all of them. Initially I didn’t want to send you these letters, for you to read the cold, hard letters on the lifeless papers, because you deserve so much more than this.* I intend to tell you how much I love you when I get back. But I still send you the letters, I must send them. Tom died, my darling. Tom died. He went too close to the bomb. It exploded. After his death I don’t know whether I can live through this war, my dear. I don’t know whether I can go back to your arms, let you surround me, let me tell you how much I’ve missed you and how much I love you everyday.

I am unsure of life. America claims that we are ahead of our ‘enemy’ but this so-called victory sacrificed so many lives. I’ve seen the kids in the city running away when I approach them, only want to give them my share of meal. We invaded their country, their peace, their lives, my darling. It’s a guilty act, but ‘we must serve for the country’, that idiot in the Pentagon says. Every time I see the kids and women and old people escaping from our good intentions disguised in the brown uniform I feel heartache. Every time I see the adults fighting against us, willing to be killed than to compromise with their principles and save their country I couldn’t help but to salute them in my heart. They have the courage to protect their country, but I, I did not even think of protesting when being called out to war, to protest that it is not the right thing to do, that it is against everyone’s will to do this, that it is selfish and childish of us to this.

We may be winning the war, but we’re losing the simple, humane touch.

I’ve been transferred to the Kadhimiyah, the holy city in Shia Islam. The mosques are beautiful, all built luxuriously to serve Allah. The natives are afraid of our brown uniforms, our white skin, our blue eyes, our blonde hair. But they are not afraid of us, us who give them food and let them see the photos of our loved ones and the letters and our true feelings towards these people.

I let them see your picture, baby. I let them see how beautiful you are to me. They say you are beautiful, as beautiful as the moon and the stars above the Kadhimiyah skies, so peaceful and quiet, so sweet and kind, so perfect for me. I don’t understand their language, nor do they understand mine, but I know it by their smiles.

I cry in their arms. I let myself fall into their arms, let them hug me, comfort me and cry with me. I let my American mask peel off by itself, that mask that had the face of cruelty that has taken so many lives, so many loved ones and so many trust.

At that instant, I realized that love has no border.

I miss you so much, baby, so much that I couldn’t help but cry every night and think of you, thinking of how you make me feel so happy and grateful, when I see your smile, for getting to know you. I thank God everyday, for giving me the time and chance to know you and have you and love you.

Tom cried every night. He did not say anything about it, looking strong everyday, but I’ve heard sobbing quietly in the middle of the night. I often went to his bed, hold his hand and cry with him. He said he missed Gina, Jane, Jordan, and Joanne. He said he missed his mother and Gina’s father. He said he missed the home-baked pies and roses and tulips in his garden. He said he missed Gina’s hands on his face, looking straight into his eyes and assures him, you’re gonna be okay.

Gina was calm when I told her the news through the phone in a grocery store. She said she already prepared herself for the worst. Her father and his mother were devastated, she told me. I asked, what are your plans? She will continue with life like it used to be, without a partner-in-crime, she joked bitterly, and cried.

Darling, I’m so afraid. I’m so scared that I couldn’t see your face anymore. I’m scared that I couldn’t see your eyes anymore. I’m scared that I couldn’t hold you tight, kiss you, touch you, and tell you how much I missed you, how much I love you.

I know you pray to God every night, and I know He answered all your prayers. But I know that someday all these will end; He has so many prayers to answer, my darling. Don’t cry, baby, don’t cry. I am not being cynical. We have to face the possibilities of the future and prepare ourselves for the worst. You know that better than I, I know you do; for you have been through so much before we met.

Baby, when I don’t get back, please do not weep for me. I don’t want to see your sad tears, I couldn’t bear the pain. Tell my family, don’t be too sad, for I will look upon them in heaven and always bless them. Tell my little brother, to always remember me and don’t slack on his studies. Tell my big sis, that I bless her and Pierre, and that I wish them all the best. Tell my girlfriends before you, that I’ve loved them before, and that I won’t ever forget them, nor do they should. Tell all the people I know, that they have always been in my heart, always. Tell the pleasant old lady in the grocery store after the left turn, that she is beautiful and I do not lie. Tell her husband, that I love him for teaching me how to fish and cook them. Tell your girlfriends, that I am not snobbish or arrogant, but that I am just shy. Tell your boyfriends before me, that I am not jealous of them but thank them for moulding you into who you are, the you whom I will love forever.

Don’t cry, baby, don’t cry. Do not shed your tears if I leave. I will be just moving on to a better place, a place where there will be no more war. I know I will be going to heaven if I could not be saved, baby, because I am not sinned, and because you always pray for me.

Thank you, baby, for being with me through the toughest of times. Thank you for being with me through the sweetest of times. Thank you for your arguments, for you have made me into a better man. Thank you for your love, darling, and thank you for assuring me that you will be Mrs. Lee. However I am unsure that you can be Mrs. Lee, nor can I assure you that the children you will bear later in life will have my last name. Please, if I happen to leave, don’t hold on to me too long. Move on, my dear. Find a man you can trust and love. Marry him. Have his child. I will not be jealous of him, because I know you have loved me before, and having to experience your love, even for only three years, I am already satisfied, and I have nothing to regret in my life. Yes, I want you to be my wife, to tell you ‘I love you’ everyday, to make love to you on our wedding night, to have our children. I want us to stay not far from our parents, in a little cottage surrounded by our garden, and the kids can play in the yard and go to school. I want us to get old together, that we become grandpa and grandma, sitting in rocking chairs, holding hands, no talking, because I will know what you are thinking, and you will know what I am thinking. We will wait for God to pick us up together and bring us back Home. I want to do all these with you, but I am already satisfied. I am grateful for having to love you and be loved by you, and having you in my life.

Baby, you know I love you so. Please don’t forget me, and don’t weep for me. I will smile upon you in heaven, and I will see you in your dreams, listen to you telling me your stories, even though I already know them. Please, baby, don’t cry or me. I always love you, I always will, and this is my promise to you.

Baby, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you , I love you , I love you.

Love and always yours,

Inspired and based on the Iraq war which began on March 20, 2003. Pray for the soldiers and the natives. Forgive/curse the ones who made it happen.

Notes: This essay is 3 1/3 pages in Microsoft Words, has 1550 words, 6234 characters without space, 7765 characters with space, 1531 spaces, 17 paragraphs, and 110 lines.
This essay has 23 'I love you's, 18 in the last paragraph, 10 'baby's, 5 'darling's, and 2 'dear's.
I had the inspiration yesterday but I left it aside. I write this essay longhand 4 pages non-stop.
I LOVE the name 'Lee' xD
*From Home from It's Time by Michael Bublé. A MUST-LISTEN.

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