Letters to James

Letter 1: From Laura to James

March 1st, 2025

My dearest James,

I hope this letter finds you well, wherever you are. It’s been a while since I’ve written, but I find that I need to speak to you today. There are so many things I want to share with you—thoughts I’ve been carrying with me, small moments that I know you would appreciate.

The weather here has been strange lately. One day it’s warm, and the next, it’s snowing again. I suppose it’s like the world can’t decide what season it wants to be. But there’s something beautiful about it—how the snow coats everything in a soft, quiet blanket, and then the sun comes out to melt it all away. It makes me think of our days together, how the simplest moments felt like magic, just because we were there.

I miss the way you would make me laugh, even on the days when I felt like the world was too heavy. You always had this way of lightening everything, even when the skies felt overcast. I still catch myself thinking about some of your jokes, the ones only you could tell so well, and I laugh out loud.

I wish I could tell you how much you’ve meant to me, how deeply you’ve shaped my world and how much love I would continue to give you — forever. You gave me faith to follow my dreams, I just keep holding onto the hope that you’re happier now. 

Forever,

Laura

Letter 2: From Laura to James

March 18th, 2025

Dear Jimmy,

I’ve been spending more time in the garden lately—something we loved doing together, especially during the spring. The roses are starting to bloom, and I find myself tending to them like you used to, reminding myself of all those quiet afternoons we spent together, hands in the dirt, planning out the next set of flowers or vegetables to plant.

There’s something healing about it, working with the earth, seeing the new life sprout, just like the things we used to build together. I keep thinking about the garden we had—how you always said it was our little piece of the world, and we’d work on it, side by side, until it was perfect.

I’ve also started painting again. You’d laugh to see my attempts—I’m still no artist, but I think of you every time I pick up the brush. You always encouraged me to try new things, to explore, even when I wasn’t sure I had the talent for it. Your belief in me still pushes me to take risks, even when it feels uncomfortable.

I’m trying, James. I’m really trying. Some days are easier than others, but I’m learning to move forward. Slowly.

Until next time, my heart,

Laura

Letter 3: From Laura to James

April 2nd, 2025

James,

I walked past the café today, the one where we always went on Sundays. It was strange, almost as if time stood still for a moment, and I half expected you to be sitting there with your coffee, waiting for me, smiling up at me like you always did. I stood there for a while, just watching, hoping to catch a glimpse of your face among the crowds.

I think I’ve come to realize that some days, not being with you is almost easier to bear. It becomes more of a background hum, something I can almost ignore if I’m busy enough. But other days, it’s like a wave crashing over me, sweeping me off my feet. I never know when it will come, when it will remind me that you’re no longer here, that I won’t wake up to you in the mornings.

The house feels quieter than ever. Sometimes, when I walk through the rooms, I expect to hear your footsteps, or see your jacket hanging by the door. But it’s just silence now. I know it’s selfish, but I can’t help but wish I could bring you back to me even for a single moment— just one more late night conversation, one more kiss in the rain.

I’ll keep going, though. I’ll keep moving forward, even though part of me is still stuck in the moments we shared.

With love,

Laura

Letter 4: From Laura to James

April 15th, 2025

My darling,

I had another dream about you last night. It wasn’t like the other ones—this one felt so real, like you were right there beside me. You held my hand, and I could feel the warmth of your fingers. We didn’t say anything, but we didn’t need to. It was one of those rare moments where words weren’t necessary, where simply being together was enough.

When I woke up, I had to remind myself that it wasn’t real. That you weren’t really there beside me. But I still felt you. It was like I could almost touch you again.

I went to the beach today, just like we used to. It was one of our favorite places, wasn’t it? The sand between our toes, the sound of the waves crashing, the way the sun would set over the water, casting everything in gold. It was beautiful, James, but I could barely enjoy it. I kept looking for you—your smile, your laugh, your hand reaching for mine—but you weren’t there.

I don’t know how to do this without you. It’s been so hard. But I remember the way you always said, "Take it one step at a time, Laura. One moment at a time." And I’m trying. I’m trying, even though some days, it feels impossible.

I miss you, James. I miss you in ways I can’t even begin to explain. I have a feeling you got everything you wanted, and you’re not wasting time stuck here like me. You're just thinking it's a small thing that happened. 

The world ended when it happened to me. 

Yours,

Laura

Letter 5: From Laura to James

April 30th, 2025

My darling husband,

I don’t know how to say this. I don’t know how to make this real. But I think it’s time. I’ve been writing to you for weeks now, pouring out my heart, as though you were here, as though you could read every word. But the truth is, you can’t. You never will.

You’ve been gone for almost two months now, and I’ve been fooling myself into thinking I could still speak to you, still reach out to you. But you’re not here, and you won’t ever be again.

I don’t know when the reality set in—the moment when I realized that all these letters I’ve been writing won’t bring you back. I kept thinking if I wrote enough, if I kept speaking to you like this, you might somehow find your way back to me. But I know that’s not how it works.

I miss you more than I ever thought I could miss someone. You we’re the light of my life and I can’t begin to imagine how I can go about life knowing that I can’t come home to you. The world is quieter without you, emptier, darker, and I don’t know how to fill the space you’ve left behind. But I’ll try, James. I’ll try. I have to keep moving forward, for both of us.

I love you. Always,

Laura