Going through my postcards, sorting out who gets which when, and suddenly coming across one and automatically thinking "I'll send that one to Daddy." But I can't. I can't. He'll never know I walked down the same streets he did when he was about my age, saw the same sights, never know how much I admired him, how much I missed him when he had to go away, how much I wanted him to stay home

I almost wish I couls just scan in these entries from my journal - my handwriting says much about my emotional state. It's been two and a half years - won't it ever get better? Or will I always be taken off-guard by little things, that'll send me into fits of tears? A postcard, for God's sake.

A postcard.