Be Strong, Jack by Svitlana Dovhan

‘Seen my medals?’,

asked Jack. He, wearing a full dress uniform, was standing in the centre of the room. ‘Ah, now I remember’, his wrinkled hand reached for an upper shelf. A dozen yellowish envelopes rained down. Jack picked up one of them.

My beloved and only son,

You’ve been through a lot, and you got a lot more coming your way. Times are harsh now, but every cloud has a silver lining. This war will have it as well. Surely you recall Mrs. Loo and her passion about numerology. She said you’ll be home till May. You know, I’m not very into it, but I do believe her. Can’t wait to see you, my child.

The nights are getting colder. My chrysanthemums still stay colourful and fresh. Roses are withering slowly. I adore their carmine velvet petals. They always remind me of your father. He fought for us, now you’re fighting for your family. Be strong, Jack, as your father was.

Are you in good health? Please, keep yourself warm enough.

Yours lovingly Mom

It was so regular and odd at the same time. Jack had several dozen such letters, undated and tuneless. Not once did she answer the question Jack put in his replies. He thought there was something wrong with the post office, or mother didn't remember things properly. Till the end of the war did he receive letters.

The silence met Jack when he opened the door. He still hoped to see his mother. Usually, she would sit near the window of the tiny flat leaning against the chair back, listening to the old radio. Her favourite vintage chair stood in front of the window, but it was empty. Jack could hear the radio. Was it a hallucination?

He run down the stairs to Meyers. Mrs Rosie Meyers was a good friend of Jack’s mother.

‘Have you seen mom?’

‘Jack, she… She passed away’

‘But her letters...’

‘Your mother had written them and asked me to send them regularly, in case she die’