On her deathbed, my beloved grandma handed me the letter which she has kept since it was returned by the postman three months ago. I can recall that day because that’s the last day I saw her lively.
Old postman, as old as her, apologized for keeping the almost faded tattered letter. According to him, war has prohibited sending one, thus the very long delay, and he is too ashamed to return it to her, causing longer delay.
With tears brimming, grandma told me to look for the man who have been waiting for this letter for decades now.
Her weak hands wrote the time-erased address seconds before she went breathless— which signalled her life’s ending and the beginning of my journey of knowing if love is really enduring.
©2016 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer