Letter From Herb To Amy

My dearest Amy,
It is with fond memories in my heart that I pen this letter. These past days have sapped my strength to the point where I think that the only thing keeping me going is watching you working on the stitches of the pyjamas every day. I don't know how much longer I will live after you have completed them. I am truly sorry if I do not get the chance to say goodbye because of this. The final stitch you make will be the final stitch in the tapestry of my life. My time is done, and I'm only cheating my own fate by trying to fight against it. Like quicksand, the more you struggle, the farther down you go. But do know that I love you. With all my heart I do. Do you remember the night we met? Of course you do, what am I saying. It was back in '42. At the governer's do, don't you recall? I knew from the moment I saw you that we would be together for the rest of our lives. Ahh, such agreeable memories... In any case, my dear, I have noticed you looking at me with a hint of jealousy on your face, probably because of my connection with the silk. I must tell you something. When I saw that silk for the first time, it reminded me of you. All the way home it felt like you were with me. And when I wear those pyjamas into the grave with me, it will feel like you are with me. I must sound like a babbling old fool but that is the truth. But it does pain me to see the silk in this sorry, half-finished state, somewhere in between the original material and the completed design. If I pass away now, it would be an agonising way to go, never seeing or wearing the clothes that let me take you with me when I die.  That is why I'm holding on for all I can to see you finish them, Amy. That's why I might not have the strength to tell you a proper goodbye. So if I can't - goodbye, my dearest. Don't dwell on my end. Think instead of all our fond memories , our good times, and the strength of our undying love. I love you, forever.
Your dearest Herb.