My father wrote me many letters. He could make everyday life come alive. After he died in 1983, my love for him transferred to my mother, and then her care. I felt him near.
They were both teachers and then volunteered as teachers when retired.
After Mom died in 2004, I found I needed to grieve for him again too. Once he said to me, Everything will be all right in the end. When I think of Harold and Enola, I think of unconditional love, service, and deep faith.
I am about 30 years older than he was when he served in World War II. It is not possible to find the words to say what is in my heart. But always good to try.
Blessings to you and your loved ones. Your memories and hopes and dreams.