Dear John,
I think I figured something out. I've been very sad for a few days and have had no idea why. This afternoon it was sunny and I could hear birds singing, and I suddenly wanted to go to the rehab hospital and see you. Then I understood why these days have been hard. It's because you can tell that spring is coming, and you died in the spring.

When I realized this, my mind immediately went to Millay: I miss him in the weeping of the rain; I want him at the shrinking of the tide. Will spring always make me sad? I don't know. I can only say that I miss you now; there is a hole where you used to be and I miss you like hell. She always says it best. The long year and I remember you.
Come for me soon?
Joan.
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