Master Sergeant Jonas D. Miller,
Mom has always said you would return tomorrow, so I have always looked forward to the east where the rising sun would tell me tomorrow has come, but these days, every time I fit my feet into the fluffy slip-on mom gifted me and hurry out to watch the sun raise its head in a clash of red, orange and gold, it is with trepidation in my heart that the sun will retreat in that exact way and you are not still home.
Source
I have grown from being a girl in blonde pigtails to being a long-legged, dark-haired teenager. Mom said what she loves about you the most is your dark hair so despite the persistent golden streaks in the wavy mass on my head, I ensure that I keep your identity close to my heart.
Mom tries to push conversations about you away from the table. She says things like “When your father comes you can ask him these questions yourself” but I have waited for so long and you are not here yet, so I have decided to come to you in this letter.
I have so much to say to you but I will not include them here because some words are better expressed with voice so you can feel the tremble in my voice that conveys how much I have longed for you over the years.
I have gone to middle school and during graduation, rushed into the ladies to release the outpour of tears that smeared mascara all over my cheeks. Bailey's dad, Mark, was there to hold her and take a picture of her. Iris’s dad, Kevin was there too despite working 7 days a week.
He could take a break for her graduation, but you were not there. You could not take a break for me. Mom asked to forgive you, she said, “Your dad is one of the most amazing people existing on the planet. I fell in love with him because he always thought about others before himself. If he could, he would be here”
She has done her best to make me love every part of you and I think she has succeeded yet I don't know why I feel a sudden stab in my heart whenever I see a dad with his little girl at the mall or a dad come to pick his kids up from school.
Because you're not here, I've not even had the opportunity of bickering with people smaller than myself because they are my siblings, or had an item to show proudly that my dad gifted me. Sometimes, I do not even remember what it ever felt like to have you look into my eyes or speak into my ears.
Don't get me wrong, I am not upset with you. I know that you have a great love for your country and that is why you chose her over us but all I want is for you to answer the question in my heart, “Will tomorrow ever come?” I want you to justify all the excuses Mom has been making for you.
She is a good wife, you know, always wiping dust off your wedding photo on the mantel shelf and tying ribbons on your picture during your birthdays. She keeps telling me stories of how you both met at a fountain where you both had a coin to make a wish. She keeps saying that day was an auspicious one, I wish you were here to concur with her.
The funniest part is that you do not have any siblings I can run to hear stories of your childhood from. Your mother is still at the old farmhouse but she can barely tell me apart from my mother. Every time I go to see her, the first question she asks is, “Isabel, is Jonas home?”, this is quite comforting because I know I am not the only one with this stabbing pain in my chest.
I do not know the kind of man you were or the kind you have become, I hear that war changes people, and I would not even know the difference if you return tomorrow because I do not hold a memory of who you were.
When you receive this letter I wish I can get a reply as quickly as possible. I wish I could get an assurance that I am not wasting my time every year keeping packages under the Christmas tree or ticking the dates on the calendar, year in, year out.
I wish you could send me a letter to replying the question I have asked Mom every day in my heart for 14 years when she says you're returning to us tomorrow, “Will this tomorrow ever come?”