7 December 1917 Edith to Stuart - Letter #44

Edith to Stuart
7.12.17
My Belovéd,
You will be without a note tonight, and I am very sorry. I would bring this up to you when you leave the Press, but that would mean leaving mother alone, and you know she does not like that. However, I will get ahead in the week-end, so that you shall not be without one again, if I can help it.
Your sorrow about Dick is one in which I can sympathise. It is not very long since Dorothy Taylor did and I can well remember the strange feelings I had at that time. It seemed impossible, for quite a long time, to believe that she was really dead; I thought, at times, that if I went up to her room, she would surely be there in the bed. I had quite a shock the first time I went into the room afterwards, for in spite of the fact that I knew she was not there, there was something in me which expected to see her. But this is all about me, and I wanted to write about you. Dearest, you know what I would say, but I can’t. Although you said it was his Mother you thought about, I know there is a longing, “hungry” sort of feeling, deep down inside you, and you wish you could see him, speak to him, touch him, just once more.
I am going to write out to-night a little “poetry-piece”, which I often read when I think about Dorothy. I am afraid it only applies to a girl, but I think you would like to read it.
Now, to turn to other things, I must just remind you, Dearest, that the waiting is not all due to you. I have to serve at 3½ years more, so, even if you were ready, I should have to ask you to wait. We may have to wait longer, but we can think about that when the time comes. But I cannot see how public opinion could condemn you for asking me to do something which I cannot help doing. This is badly expressed, but you understand what I mean. The waiting time has been, and I am sure it will still be, the happiest time of my life. So, Dearest, don’t be afraid you are making it hard. Such times as Sunday evening make the time pass more quickly. They give something to look back to, and something wonderful and holy to look forward to. It was only for a few moments that I felt I could not wait. I think, however, that your suggestion that we should leave such things for indoors is a good one. I was glad you told me that you liked the first part of Sunday evening best. I liked it much the best. But I thought, somehow, it was the other you preferred, so I did not say. I wonder if you think me a turn coat; but I did not say before, which I liked best.
There are other things I want to say, but I must put them in the week-end letter.
Goodbye, my Belovéd, my Dearest, My Best of all men. Be happy, and keep happy, and get happier and happier, and someday, we’ll be happy together.
Good-night, Belovéd, Goodnight.

(c) DearestBeloved 2009