In 1945 my opa was 20 enrolled  in the navy during ww2, he was engaged to my oma who was at home and was 18. They would write each other letters every day. They spoke a language I don't think I will ever understand. Every letter started off with “Dearest Alice, I love you”. Then opa would continue to talk about his adventures that day, where he was, what he ate, and what he thought about (which was always my oma). We only have half the picture because my omas letters have been worn to dust by a young doting sailor. I like to imagine how content my oma must have been with hundreds of letters worn down in a box somewhere under her bed that promised so much love.  Even though it's quite recently that I discovered the letters I think that maybe I've felt their impact on my life before. They were the ones who raised my grammy whose light I still remember every time I see a cardinal, and she raised my father who raised me. Maybe the three words that shared their love were passed on and maybe that's why I say I love you when I hang up the phone and say good night. It's all tied up in theoreticals and fate, however a love that traveled across the sea every day for four years, went on after the war was over, in marriage and in death. Maybe a sliver of that is mine too.

– Audrey y

Relationship:  unknown unknown