My dearest，

You’ve gone.And I can never get you back again——except by talking to you.It’s childish，I know.But perhaps it will give me some relief from the pent-up sorrow that makes me feel as if my heart will burst.

How often we gently scorned the people who used euphemisms for death!“She has left us.”“He has passed over.”Where was their strength，we wondered，that they could not acknowledge death for what it was，and speak of it as death?I understand them a little better now.But at least I will demand of myself the will to call death by itsown name.

I know what they were trying to do.They were attempting to conceal the ultimate finality……at least until they could bear it.Nature bestows a numbness on us at first，giving us time to adjust to the brutal truth.But the numbness does not last long enough，and the truth breaks through the veil and stabs us again and again.

Friends have been marvelous.They have surrounded me with affection and concern;they talk or fall silent as they perceive my mood;they bring gifts of flowers or themselves;they plan little outings and include me in their gatherings.They write letters that make the tears stream down my face，because they appreciated you so……they tell me，in warm words，how sweet you were，how brilliant，how witty，how talented，and how blessed they were to know you.It is a comfort to read of their appreciation，to realize that they were aware of all your wonderful qualities.But my loss，as I go over their words，grows greater and greater.I am utterly bereft.I have been abandoned;I feel as if apart of me has been amputated.For we were soclose，we knew each other so well，we were so attuned to each other’s moods——different though we were in a dozen respects.

There was one letter that helped me more than most.It came from an editor whom you never met.She told me something which has been a kind of bulwark，for she said，“No one truly dies who is remembered with love.”

And I know this is true.I remember you with love.I remember everything about you，with undying love.When I think I cannot stand the loneliness any more，something will come to mind，something that I loved in you and it gives me the courage，if only momentarily，to go on.

So that is what I will do，as I write to you.I will think of the things that made our life together the charmed experience it was.I will remember you with love.

我的唯一：

我几乎不敢相信你已经离开我整整一年了。从一方面说，这是我生命中最漫长的一年，最可怕的一年，也是最黑暗的一年。但从另一方面说，似乎我们那次最后的相见就发生在昨天，你脸上带着淡淡的、美丽的微笑，因为你终于找到了安宁。我站在病床前，注视着你，似乎永远也看不够……当我意识到我已失去了你的时候，由于悲伤我变得麻木了。

你在病痛中生活了那么久。你为此而写的那首诗让我心如刀绞，因为这来自于你的内心。你时常告诉我，你不惧怕死亡，当死亡来临时你会愉快地迎接它。但你也曾许诺尽可能长久地与我待在一起，你的确如此做了，尽管你希望自己离去。现在死亡像朋友一样到来了，你得到自由了。

而我如今却被束缚住了。我被束缚在生活中、束缚在悲痛中，失去了你，我被迫独自继续生活下去。

我曾经努力地挽留你;我曾经回避那不可回避的事实，似乎只要我忽视它就可以战胜它。当我站在你的身旁，我才最终知道我面对的是什么，这几乎使我无法承受。

正是从那时起，我开始给你写信，那些信使我明白我欠了你那么多，我从你那里得到了那么多。那些信拯救了我，也许现在我已能足够坚强地生活下去——不是如我过去所认为的那样失去了你，而是与你同在。如同那语言清晰完美的编辑所说的那样，被人们满怀爱戴之情回忆的人是不会真正死去的，而我正是满怀爱戴之情回忆你，用我心里的全部的爱。

你与我同在。当我坐在你做的针绣花边的椅子上时，你就在那儿。当我抬头看看挂着你的画的墙壁时，你就在那儿。当我坐在桌旁，凝视着你绣的小垫布时，当我躺在床上，盖着你用钧针编织的软毛毯时，当我为参加晚宴着装，戴上你为我做的金手镯和耳环时，你就在那儿。你的书籍排列在书架上，你的诗歌被我读了一遍又一遍，你那会说话的眼睛从我书桌上的照片里凝视着我。

我不会失去你，我最爱的人。我只能回忆我们共有的欢笑，我们一起度过的日子，你与病痛抗争的勇气，你对待生命的态度，我因此而得以充实和提高。现在我知道我不会失去你，因为我已满怀爱戴之情回忆你，你将陪伴着我，直至我生命的最后一天。