June 17th, 1775
Bunker Hill, Massachusetts


My beloved Anna,

Words are not granted the honor of describing the joy and love you brought me. I will treasure the idyllic memories we shared. With the deepest regret, I inform you that there will be no more.

I was wounded gravely by a British bayonet this morning during the battle the Patriots fought at Bunker Hill. Only the cherished reminiscences of you relieve me of my pain. These battles thrive in bloodshed. We, the Patriots, continue to fight the British Lobsterbacks with perseverance, dedication, and the knowledge that every man on this blessed land deserves his liberty. I die in the pleasure that my death will allow our children to live with their freedom, with their God-given rights granted, and without the Redcoats hovering over their doorways. This nation must, and will, prosper.

Anna, recollections of you are more beautiful than heaven itself. Memories of you started when we just children. We would rob the apple orchards of all their fruit. We would relax on the banks of Silver Lake writing poetry. The shimmering crests of the water reminded me of your sky blue eyes. The sweet song of the robins reminded me of your melodious voice. The voice that would even spellbind the birds themselves. I remember the hours we spent with our beautiful colts, Rose and Lily. Rose always nuzzled you first and Lily eye’s were never distracted from you.

I am so repentant that we will never live the golden years we so carefully planned. Anna, wherever I may be my love for you is always there to give you a gentle brush across your cheek or to embrace you. I feel remorseful that I will never hear your laugh that brightened the stars or see the sparkling eyes of our beautiful Susan again. I am confident that she will grow up to have her mother’s beauty, compassion, and charm. The charm that continues to mesmerize me and will forever.

Do not lament over my death, Anna. I know that you are not weak. You are the strongest and bravest woman I have ever met. A tear on your cheek or a falter in your happiness is hundred times more painful to me than getting struck with a British bayonet. I am going to the grave with the thought that your radiant smile will continue to raise the sun and illuminate the moon. My love for you is not breakable by even the mighty Death himself. The memories we shared remind me how blessed I was to have you there at my side. You will continue to queen over my heart.


Lots of Love,
James