The Longest Ride(137)

Sophia stopped to look at Ira, noting the way his lips had come together, tears still leaking into the crevices and valleys of his face. Though she tried to remain poised, her voice began to crack as she went on.



I miss you this morning, just as I have missed you every day for the last nine years. I’m tired of being alone. I’m tired of living without the sound of your laughter, and I despair at the thought that I can never hold you again. And yet it would please you to know that when these dark thoughts threaten to overtake me, I can hear your voice chiding me: “Do not be so gloomy, Ira. I did not marry a gloomy man.”

When I think back, there is so much to remember. We had adventures, yes? These are your words, not mine, for this is how you always described our lives together. You said this to me while lying beside me in bed, you said this to me on Rosh Hashanah, every single year. I always detected a satisfied gleam in your eye whenever you said this, and in those moments, it was your expression, more than your words, that always filled my heart with joy. With you, my life felt indeed like a fantastic adventure – despite our ordinary circumstances, your love imbued everything we did with secret riches. How I was lucky enough to share a life with you, I still cannot understand.

I love you now, just as I have always loved you, and I’m sorry that I’m not able to tell you. And though I write this letter in the hope that you’ll somehow be able to read it, I also know that the end of an era approaches. This, my darling, is the last letter I will write you. You know what the doctors have told me, you know that I’m dying, and that I will not visit Black Mountain in August. And yet, I want you to know that I’m not afraid. My time on earth is ending and I’m at peace with whatever comes. I’m not saddened by this. If anything, it fills me with peace, and I count the days with a sense of relief and gratitude. For every day that passes is one day closer to the moment I will see you again.

You are my wife, but more than that, you have always been my one true love. For nearly three-quarters of a century, you have given my existence meaning. It is time now to say good-bye, and on the cusp of this transition I think I understand why you were taken away. It was to show me how special you were and through this long process of grieving, to teach me again the meaning of love. Our separation, I now understand, has only been temporary. When I gaze into the depths of the universe, I know the time is coming when I will hold you in my arms once more. After all, if there is a heaven, we will find each other again, for there is no heaven without you.

I love you,

Ira





Through a blur of tears, Sophia watched Ira’s face assume an expression of indescribable peace. Carefully, she reinserted the letter into the envelope. She slid it into his hand and felt him take it back. By then, the doctor was standing at the door and Sophia knew it was time to go. She rose from the chair and Luke returned it to its place against the wall, then slipped his hand into hers. As he turned his head on the pillow, Ira’s mouth fell open, and his breathing became labored. Sophia turned to the doctor, who was already on his way to Ira’s side. With one last glance back at Ira’s frail figure, Sophia and Luke started down the corridor, on their way home at last.





31





Luke





A

s February passed and gradually wound down, Sophia edged toward graduation, while the ranch inched toward its inevitable foreclosure. Luke’s winnings in the first three events had bought his mother and him another month or two before they defaulted, but at the end of the month his mother quietly began to approach their neighbors, exploring their interest in buying her out.



Sophia was beginning to worry concretely about her future. She hadn’t heard from either the Denver Art Museum or MoMA yet, and she wondered whether she’d find herself working for her parents and living in her old bedroom. Similarly, Luke was having a hard time sleeping. He worried about his mother’s options in the area and wondered how he could help support her until she landed something viable. For the most part, however, neither of them wanted to talk about the future. Instead, they tried to focus on the present, seeking comfort in each other’s company and the certainty of the way they felt about each other. By March, Sophia was showing up at the ranch on Friday afternoons and staying until Sunday. Often she spent Wednesday nights there as well. Unless it was raining, they spent most of their time on horseback. Sophia usually assisted Luke with his farm duties, but occasionally she’d keep his mother company instead. It was the kind of life he’d always envisioned for himself… and then he’d remember that it was coming to an end and there was nothing he could do to stop it.