Dear John,
Today I've been thinking about the way you used to look at me.
I was at work where I have a wonderful view of one of the town parking lots. It's a Topeka parking lot - there are six spots for cars and six for buggies and there usually isn't much action. Today I saw a couple drive up. The woman got out and went to the pharmacy while the man waited in the car. When she came back, they were aware of each other but never made eye contact. And that got me thinking about you.

Maybe the nurses at Methodist were onto something when they talked about how much we loved each other. I'd always assumed that all married people felt the same way we did. The evidence, however, suggests otherwise. Not everybody is like those couples on Investigation Discovery that kill each other. But not everybody loves each other like we do, either. Of course, I married The World's Only Perfect Man, and that helps. And with your health history, we never had the luxury of taking each other for granted. But it's more than that. We love each other very much. We had something special. And I'm thankful for the years I had with you.
That verb tense is wrong - I still have you, just not here with me. And maybe you still look at me the same way. I can't wait to see you. Will you look at me that way again? I can't wait to see your face.
Thinking about you with that look on my face,
Joan.
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