Deborah

And so, when a family was notified that they'd lost a loved one, only the barest details were shared.

I was in Jerry's parents' home.

His mother and father were in the room.

They handed me the telegram.

In the months before he died, looking towards the war he was about to enter, Jerry wrote a poem.

All I ask for, God, in the brief second before eternity swallows me up, a glimpse of the world that is to be.

where no man need make a prayer like mine, then will I know there is meaning amidst this man-made madness.

In a certain way, I've never verbalized this

But in a certain way, the discovery of those letters have turned my life upside down because I don't feel as happy as I used to feel.

I really don't.

It's the first time I've heard Deborah say this.

I thought for Deborah, Jerryland was a happy escape.

And it seems it can be.

But there's sadness there, too.

After discovering the box, Deborah found herself having nightmares.

The letters abruptly end in 1944, so in place of an actual ending, Deborah's mind crafted its own.

She dreamt of Jerry in the water.

She dreamt of him frozen in the English Channel.

And it was like a piece of Deborah was stuck there with him.

Recently, though, I learned something that might help Deborah to work herself free.