My One and Only，
I can scarcely believe that it is a year since you died. In a way it has been the longest year of my life， and the most terrible， and the darkest. But in another way it seems only yesterday that I saw you last with a faint， beautiful smile on your face because you had found peace at last. I stood there beside the hospital bed， looking down at you as if I could never have enough…numb with grief as the realization swept over me that I had lost you.
For so many months you had been in pain. The poem you wrote about it tore at my heart， for it came from your heart. You had told me time and again that you did not fear death， that when it came you felt you would welcome it. But you had promised to stay with me as long as you could， and you had done it， in spite of your wish to g o. Now Death had come as a friend and you were free.
It was I who was bound① now. Bound to life， bound to sorrow， forced to go on without you.
I had tried so hard to keep you； I had turned away from the inevitable②， as if by ignoring it I could vanquish it. Standing beside you I knew at last what I was faced with， and it seemed more than I could bear.
It was after that that I began writing to you， and those letters have made me see how much I owed you and how I gained from you. They have been my salvation③ and perhaps now I am strong enough to go on—not without you， as I had thought， but with you. For no one， as that perspicacious④ editor said， is truly dead who is remembered with love. And I have remembered you with love， with all the love of my heart.
And you are with me. When I sit in the needle-point⑤ chair you made， you are there. When I raise my eyes to the walls where your paintings hang， you are there. When I am at the table and gaze at the doilies you embroidered， when I lie in bed under the blankets you crocheted⑥， when I dress for dinner and put on the gold bracelet and the earrings you made for me， you are there. Your books line the shelves， your poems are there to be read over and over， your speaking eyes look out at me from the photograph on my desk.
I can never lose you， my gallant one. I have only to remember the laughter we shared， the days we spent together， the inspiration of your struggle against pain， the spirit with which you met life， and I am enriched and enabled. Now I know that I can never lose you because I have remembered you with love， and you will abide with me to the end of my days.
① boundadj. 被缚住的，受束缚的
② inevitableadj. 不可避免的，必然(发生)的
③ salvationn. 救助，拯救
④ perspicaciousadj. 有颖悟力的，有洞察力的
⑤ needle-point n. 针尖，针织花边
⑥ crochetv. 用钩针编织
阿黛尔·迪·莱乌致姐姐（2）
我的唯一：
我几乎不敢相信你已经离开我整整一年了。从一方面说，这是我生命中最漫长的一年，最可怕的一年，也是最黑暗的一年。
但从另一方面说，似乎我们那次最后的相见就发生在昨天，你脸上带着淡淡的、美丽的微笑，因为你终于找到了安宁。我站在病床前，注视着你，似乎永远也看不够……当我意识到我已失去了你的时候，由于悲伤我变得麻木了。
你在病痛中生活了那么久。你为此而写的那首诗让我心如刀绞，因为这来自于你的内心。你时常告诉我，你不惧怕死亡，当死亡来临时你会愉快地迎接它。但你也曾许诺尽可能长久地与我待在一起，你的确如此做了，尽管你希望自己离去。现在死亡像朋友一样到来了，你得到自由了。
而我如今却被束缚住了。我被束缚在生活中、束缚在悲痛中，失去了你，我被迫独自继续生活下去。
我曾经努力地挽留你；我曾经回避那不可回避的事实，似乎只要我忽视它就可以战胜它。当我站在你的身旁，我才最终知道我面对的是什么，这几乎使我无法承受。
正是从那时起，我开始给你写信，那些信使我明白我欠了你那么多，我从你那里得到了那么多。那些信拯救了我，也许现在我已能足够坚强地生活下去——不是如我过去所认为的那样失去了你，而是与你同在。如同那语言清晰完美的编辑所说的那样，被人们满怀爱戴之情回忆的人是不会真正死去的，而我正是满怀爱戴之情回忆你，用我心里的全部的爱。
你与我同在。当我坐在你做的针绣花边的椅子上时，你就在那儿。当我抬头看看挂着你的画的墙壁时，你就在那儿。当我坐在桌旁，凝视着你绣的小垫布时；当我躺在床上，盖着你用钧针编织的软毛毯时；当我为参加晚宴着装，戴上你为我做的金手镯和耳环时，你就在那儿。你的书籍排列在书架上，你的诗歌被我读了一遍又一遍，你那会说话的眼睛从我书桌上的照片里凝视着我。
我不会失去你，我最爱的人。我只能回忆我们共有的欢笑，我们一起度过的日子，你与病痛抗争的勇气，你对待生命的态度，我因此而得以充实和提高。现在我知道我不会失去你，因为我已满怀爱戴之情回忆你，你将陪伴着我，直至我生命的最后一天。
