Dear Jacqueline,
I’d have never thought that the only way to feel close to me was to contemplate a little picture of you that I stole from your bedside table that morning of the 10th of September.
I’d have never thought I’d feel the fear of not seeing you again, of not being able to hold you in my arms, of not being able to caress your face and show you the love I have for you, day after day.
I am not writing to tell you how "I spend" my days; the only words you would read would be "blood" and "weapons".
I live every day in horror, I feel it, I feel it: I am a prisoner of it. But to perceive it by looking at the faces of my companions... that is the most excruciating thing.
I live every day in horror, I feel it, I feel it: I am a prisoner of it. But to perceive it by observing the faces of my companions... that is the most heart-breaking thing.
I have become a means of comfort for some; this thing helps me, it gives me strength. Thinking of being considered, appreciated, beneficial for something that goes beyond the figure of a soldier with a weapon in his hand is what now gives me comfort.
Sometimes I thank God; I thank him because I know I am lucky enough not to be a father yet. Yes, I consider myself lucky for that. I see the faces of soldiers who have a family, who have children at home asking their mother every day where their father is: theirs are shattered faces. I would never want to feel their fear, the uncertainty of not being able to see my children again, of not being able to raise them.
I'm one of the youngest here. Like everyone else, I see my life passing in the trenches, it passes in front of me, it doesn't stop, it runs, it doesn't turn to look at me, it doesn't hold out its hand.
I think about the time not spent with you, and for this reason, in the moments of "respite", I stop and try to imagine everything we will realize.
I miss our daily life, the alarm clock at 6 and the hot coffee we drank on the veranda, all year round, even on those winter mornings.
Wait for me, all this will soon be over. I hear you, I listen to you, you give me strength. You're the reason why I won't surrender, the reason why I won't let go.
While I’m thinking about our future plans, wait for me with your hot coffee on the veranda.
Get your mother’s white dress ready and wear it, we have no more time to waste.
I love you more and more!
Your beloved, Paul
Giorgia Gerola
