Richard


Richard C. Monnier

Oct 9, 1961


Mon.
My Dearest Love,

The beautiful 9th day of October is nearly past; but the most beautiful part of every day, I've not seen today. The day without you is the passing of time on whatever I can best do for you and us. (To say "you" or "us" is to say the same thing, for two things so close are no longer two, but one.)

I now share your common cold or hold in common the common cold, which I must say, is a pleasure having since it comes from you. You see, you make everything in life pleasant for me. That's why I love you; or at least that's partly why.

What ever it is that makes me love you; it has made the love grow deep into my heart like the tap root of a tree into the fruitful earth. The roots that make Rich (rich) the outer man, the essence of life, the unseen something that makes the tree, and me, flourish and thrive.

You needn't laugh. Don't read what my words say, but read the thousands of hours of thought that produce them. Rather, think of what only the mind understands about what the heart knows. Even abstraction can't express what I feel. All this I regret, but suffer easily, for in my heart where the song begins I know we hold a common knowledge.

Forgive me then for always trying to put to words things inexpressible. But as long as you have ears to hear and eyes to see, and I health to speak and hands to write so long you'll see and hear, "I love you with all my heart."

My Dearest Little Blue Eyed Love, note not either the way I write nor the sound of things I say until they've passed through your own heart which in love will see them the proper way.

My life's devoted to a common one of which it's only half, so incomplete without you. It's that completeness of life that I want, for half a life is far worse than none.

If I didn't think you'd understand what I mean by what I say I'd worry about all I say and write. But to our single heart in different words the meaning must be one.

And after saying all of this (the words just don't improve) might I add I love and miss you, that's all I meant to say.

All My Love,
Richie







When I Was 17    
    Love Letters
    A Young Married Lady


Morris
NJ Governor
Lewis Morris



Breese
Breese
Family



Henry Livingston
Night Before Xmas
Henry Livingston



Burnett
Lincoln Trial
Judge Advocate
Henry L. Burnett



Father
Father
Bradley
Van Deusen


Jean
Mother
Jean
Van Deusen


home
Home

favorites
Suggested
Favorite
Pages
site map
Site Map



IME logo Copyright © 2005, Mary S. Van Deusen