Letters of a Dying Man

Hopefully some of you who read this can appreciate the feelings behind the words. Feedback is appreciated. Otherwise, enjoy.

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My dearest Liliane,

This shall likely be my last letter, as I am not long for this world.

It was some years ago that I was diagnosed with cancer. It came as a shock, though I have come to accept the inevitability of it. As I sit here, thinking on all that has happened in my relatively short life, I decided to try, one final time, to make my feelings known to you.

Our courtship was indeed a swift one. I never believed in love at first sight, not really, not until I saw you. That long autumn day at Stanford, where I was studying English, and you, I was later to find out, were studying the Arts.

I had thought that simply talking to you would have been one of my finest achievements. But even today, I will support that one of my happiest moments was the first time you smiled at me. The way the sun played through your long, lustrous blonde hair, the way your eyes lit up when you smiled... it will stay with me forever, so that I may relive it over and over again.

I never suspected in my wildest dreams that you may have had an interest in me. I found myself thinking that I wished your eyes would sparkle like that when you saw or thought of me. Indeed, it came as a surprise when you told me you were interested in me. I've never been one to stand on appearances, but quite honestly, there was nothing good I could say about myself. Still to this day, I cannot see what you saw in me. Perhaps that is what made it -- and you -- so special.

I still remember out first date as if it were yesterday. A picnic by the lake. Wine and cheese, and strawberries with whipped cream for dessert. I fed you strawberries, and accidentally got whipped cream on your nose, and you just laughed and proceeded to wipe it away with aplomb.

After that, I knew I loved you. It was torture to be away from you, but I survived. I found myself waiting anxiously for every date, every chance to see you. And when I did, I felt happier that I ever had.

The days and nights were filled with wanting and lusting, but always, patience prevailed, as I knew you wanted to wait. And I would wait as long as you wished.

On the night of out twelfth date, I do not know what I expected. Do you remember it? It was rather more intimate that our other dates had been. A meal cooked by you, eaten by firelight, on the floor of your apartment, wrapped together in a warm blanket with glasses of wine.

It came as a complete surprise to me when you, of a sudden, set down your glass of wine, wrapped your arms around my neck, and told me, in no uncertain terms, to kiss you.

Of course, I complied with gusto. How not? It was like a dam broke inside me, and all my desire and love for you came pouring out of me in one great rush. It was a night of firsts for us.

When my lips touched yours for the first time, and our bodies seemed to melt together, I thought I knew ecstasy. I was wrong. I felt your hands moving over my body, removing my clothing, and I hurried to do that same for you. Once disrobed, I laid you down on the soft carpet and poised my aching need at your damp entrance.

Do you remember the first time you told me you loved me? You wrapped your arms around my neck and whispered, "I love you so much. Please, take me, now." I was only too happy to comply. I remember sinking into your warmth, nigh-screaming out my undying love for you as I threw our virginities to the universe and made sweet, slow, passionate love with you.

I said I thought I had known ecstasy, and that I had been wrong. It was true. I found true ecstasy when our bodies merged and out heartbeats synchronized.

I knew the instant I entered you that you were the only one for me, that I could never be with another. How was it for you? I suppose I'll never know now. One of many things I'll never know.

In the afterglow of lovemaking, I held you close enough so as to never let you go, and played with your blonde hair. I heard your whispered and repeated confessions of love, and my heart swelled with joy to know you felt the same as I did.

I thought nothing could end this happiness. But again, I was wrong. When your parents came to take you back to your home so you could be married off, I felt like my heart was being ripped from my chest and torn apart. We hadn't even graduated, and I was devastated to know we wouldn't complete our last year together.

I saw the pain in your eyes as you left, and knew you felt the same as I. When you said the last words I'd ever hear from your sweet lips, "I love you," soundlessly, only for me, I responded with all the feeling in my soul, and it will remain with me forever.

It was torture after you were gone. Not the anxious, sweet torture of waiting to see you, but the painful torture of knowing that I would never be with you again. It hurt more than I could have imagined, and it was true, I never saw you again, and I could never love or be with another.

After I was diagnosed, I realized that, even had we been allowed to be together, it would only have been for a short time. Fate is indeed a cruel mistress.

My only hope is that you have managed to find happiness in life, have a loving family, a good husband, a good career, and never want for anything. I truly want that for you.

While I do have cancer, the truth is, I have been dying for a long time now. Ever since I saw you be taken away. Of love sickness. I have missed you so much over these long, lonely years that I felt like I would break. Maybe I did.

After I am gone, I hope your life continues well for many, many years. Perhaps we will meet in whatever is after death, some day. I want you to know, in this final letter of mine, that I have never stopped loving you, not for an instant, and even with my final breath, the only thought in my body, my mind, my heart, and my soul will be to return those words you spoke to me so long ago: I love you, Liliane.

Yours forever,

Mattias