Inside the Battle

The year was 1914, Sophia's father was selected to fight into war. Hardship... Struggling to fight her own battle... Will her father return back in time to celebrate family occasions ? Or will she be left alone to fight her personal battles alone ?
Sophia begins writing letters to her father as it is the only contact she was with him. Dealing with the the fact of her Father not with her, she slowly begins to realize the hardship unfolding within her life.
An insight view of father and daughter relationship affected by battle.
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7. Sorry... I Just Can't : Father's Letter

 19th of February 1918

Dearest Sophia,

Belated, Merry Christmas, I hope Christmas was wonderful, being surrounded by family and friends, filling the room with carols and the exchange of gifts. It must have been just wonderful, sent me pictures, please. Also belated happy 1st birthday to my granddaughter, please give her my apologies for not bring there. Hoping it was I splendid occasion, please sent photos of that too.

It’s been years since I been home, every day is my own personal battle to stay live. But each day it doesn’t get any easy. Sophia, I don’t even know the true meaning of me being here anymore, when the last days of my life will probably be, of me suffering. Might as well surrender and die, as it is only possible hope I see; at least, then I will be at peace at my death, maybe not even then. I beginning too lose all my faith of survival, when everything I see here is dead and lifeless or in determination of killing or full of hatred, not even a sprinkle of happiness here would fix the damage that we have caused.

The smell, the conditions, each day begins to worsen. One day I notice a red poppy in the ground; it is the first, ever beautiful thing I’ve seen in years. I glazed at it, and imagine my life back home, with my family, happy. Even if I didn’t have the perfect home or clothes, I have my family by my side. Joyful. Cheery. At peace.

When you described my granddaughter, I burst with tears, an overwhelming feeling of missing the childhood of her, watching her growing-up, to be there for her first steps, laugh, and words. I’m too late. The poppy reminded me of her, imagining her brown hair and blue eyes staring at me, blue as the ocean and skies, being radiant as the sun and laughter of innocence. I miss home. What it brings to my heart as I no longer with it; shattering into millions of pieces; missing pieces which can only be found at home, with family. Remembering the joyful occasions with you, deepens the hole in my heart. 

Hope all is going well with you. Missing you dearly, forever and always

Your father



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