She once thought that, in times of war, the most painful thing was being parted by death. Only later did she understand that the greatest pain was his laying down his life to clear her path, while she waited through endless days with letters that would never receive another line, painting a picture of someone who would never return.
He hid his love in ink and brushstrokes, buried his devotion in his bones, and gave his life in a sacrifice no one knew of to ensure she would live in peace. In a foreign land, she clutched the paintbrush he had left behind and painted her longing and despair. Only at the very end did she realize that he had already written his life into the most heartbreaking love letter of her remaining years.
