In a small secluded home just outside the reach of city lights and surrounded by weeping willows, an elderly man in the final stages of a terminal illness lay in his bed contemplating his life.
His eyes, once glistening with life, grew dim.
With only the company of his live-in nurse, he mustered the strength to motion the nurse over to his bed.
He said, I know that I am slipping and my time is growing near, if you could grab a pen and paper there is something I need to make clear.
You see, there are so many things I never got to say to someone I have always loved so dear, and I’d like to have you pass it on … I know my time draws near.
The nurse picked up a pen and paper and moved closer to his bedside and this is what he said.
The man stopped talking, and with tears in her eyes, the nurse asked where she should send the letter. He gave the nurse the name and address, adding, send it with a yellow rose … it was her favorite.
At some point during the night, the nurse checked in. The man had passed away. On his bedside table sat a photograph of the woman in the letter.
In his clasped hand, was a ring.
The willows wept.