if t is possible.

    Allie organized, as o leave te . S specific burial instructions, and t in my desk, in ttom drao e. Letters to friends and cters to broters and cousins. Letters to nieces, nepter to me.

    I read it sometimes ed by a roaring fire  ters I ten to  tters, and noo do so. S to do ; I find I enjoy reading bits and pieces of t as so. trigue me, tters, for  romance and passion are possible at any age. I see Allie noters, I come to understand t I  the same way.

    I read t ter I s  to tack of letters, tall and ied tself almost ury old, and found tters erime of letters, letters professing my love, letters from my . I glanced tter from our first anniversary.

    I read an excerpt:

    o me, and .

    I put it aside, sifted tack, and found anoty-nine years ago.

    Sitting next to you,  comes only to ts, and I kne no man could be more lucky than me.

    And after our son died, t  time  till ring true today:

    In times of grief and sorro my oogetry to ears and despair and make it treets of life.

    I pause for just a moment, remembering  time, just a baby. I y times as long as  if asked, I errible to outlive your cragedy I wish upon no one.

    I do my best to keep tears a to clear my mind, and find t from our tieto t:

    udio covered  ted and tired eyes, I kno you are t beautiful he world.

    t on, t ired, but I tom of tack. tter remaining, t one I e o keep going.

    I lifted t t page into better ligo read:

    My