This is the seventy-eighth of 87 letters exchanged during World War II between Nicholas Salvatore and Elizabeth Galloway. For more see Nicholas and Elizabeth.
June 1, 1945
Ever-changing but always here
I’m at a loss. I love who you are. Please always know that you have given me that final push to believing that I do deserve to be happy.
We close at the end of the month and that’ll be that. On to New York. I can’t wait for the adventure. I’m trying not to get too full of myself but I feel like I made it happen by writing that first letter. I know that’s not realistic but I can’t help it and frankly I don’t care. Whenever I think that way I remind myself I never would’ve done it without you. I can’t imagine what I’d be like without you. I try not to dwell on it too much in these letters, but Bern’s death was a terrible struggle for me to accept. I still haven’t, not fully.
Even my father’s disappearance – I would find myself crying in the middle of the night over him. Over my father! The man who yelled at me and told me I was worthless, and there I was shedding tears for him. The worst part is the uncertainty of it all. Until they find him I’ll always be worried he’ll show up again and try to get back into my life. I couldn’t handle that Nick. I wish I knew, one way or the other. Bern’s death is what it is and I might never get over it but I know for certain that he’s gone. That creates a shift in thinking right there.
But never mind that. Soon we’ll be together.
We’ve got so much to take care of here – one month sounds like a lot of time but not when you have to pack up and move a lifetime. I wish Bern was here to help. I feel that he is anyway.
Be well, mon capitan,
Next letter – June 5, 1945