my one and only，

　　i can scarcely believe that it is a year since you died.in a way it has been the longest year of mylife，and the most terrible，and the darkest.but inanother way it seems only yesterday that i saw youlast……with a faint，beautiful smile on your facebecause you had found peace at last.i stood therebeside the hospital bed，looking down at you as if icould never have enough……numb with grief as therealization swept over me that i had lost you.

　　for so many months you had been in pain.thepoem you wrote about it tore at my heart，for itcame from your heart.you had told me time andagain that you did not fear death，that when it cameyou felt you would welcome it.but you had promised to stay with me as long as you could，andyou had done it，in spite of your wish to go.nowdeath had come as a friend and you were free.

　　it was i who was bound now.bound to life，bound to sorrow，forced to go on without you.

　　i had tried so hard to keep you；i had turnedaway from the inevitable，as if by ignoring it i could vanquish it.standing beside you i knew atlast what i was faced with，and it seemed morethan i could bear.

　　it was after that that i began writing to you，and those letters have made me see how much iowed you and how i gained from you.they havebeen my salvation and perhaps now i am strongenough to go on——not without you，as i hadthought，but with you.for no one，as that perspicacious editor said，is truly dead who isremembered with love.and i have remembered youwith love，with all the love of my heart.

　　and you are with me.when i sit in the needle- point chair you made，you are there.when i raisemy eyes to the walls where your paintings hang，you are there.when i am at the table and gaze atthe doilies you embroidered，when i lie in bedunder the afghans you crocheted，when i dress fordinner and put on the gold bracelet and theearrings you made for me，you are there.yourbooks line the shelves，your poems are there to beread over and over，your speaking eyes look out atme from the photograph on my desk.

　　i can never lose you，my gallant one.i haveonly to remember the laughter we shared，the dayswe spent together，the inspiration of your struggle against pain，the spirit with which you met life，andi am enriched and enobled.now i know that i cannever lose you because i have remembered youwith love，and you will abide with me to the end of my days.

　　我的唯一：

　　我幾乎不敢相信你已經離開我整整一年了。從一方面說，這是我生命中最漫長的一年，最可怕的一年，也是最黑暗的一年。但從另一方面說，似乎我們那次最后的相見就發生在昨天，你臉上帶著淡淡的、美麗的微笑，因為你終于找到了安寧。我站在病床前，注視著你，似乎永遠也看不夠……當我意識到我已失去了你的時候，由于悲傷我變得麻木了。

　　你在病痛中生活了那么久。你為此而寫的那首詩讓我心如刀絞，因為這來自于你的內心。你時常告訴我，你不懼怕死亡，當死亡來臨時你會愉快地迎接它。但你也曾許諾盡可能長久地與我待在一起，你的確如此做了，盡管你希望自己離去。現在死亡像朋友一樣到來了，你得到自由了。

　　而我如今卻被束縛住了。我被束縛在生活中、束縛在悲痛中，失去了你，我被迫獨自繼續生活下去。

　　我曾經努力地挽留你；我曾經回避那不可回避的事實，似乎只要我忽視它就可以戰勝它。當我站在你的身旁，我才最終知道我面對的是什么，這幾乎使我無法承受。

　　正是從那時起，我開始給你寫信，那些信使我明白我欠了你那么多，我從你那里得到了那么多。那些信拯救了我，也許現在我已能足夠堅強地生活下去——不是如我過去所認為的那樣失去了你，而是與你同在。如同那語言清晰完美的編輯所說的那樣，被人們滿懷愛戴之情回憶的人是不會真正死去的，而我正是滿懷愛戴之情回憶你，用我心里的全部的愛。

　　你與我同在。當我坐在你做的針繡花邊的椅子上時，你就在那兒。當我抬頭看看掛著你的畫的墻壁時，你就在那兒。當我坐在桌旁，凝視著你繡的小墊布時，當我躺在床上，蓋著你用鈞針編織的軟毛毯時，當我為參加晚宴著裝，戴上你為我做的金手鐲和耳環時，你就在那兒。你的書籍排列在書架上，你的詩歌被我讀了一遍又一遍，你那會說話的眼睛從我書桌上的照片里凝視著我。