Dearest Mariah,

Today is a very historic day. The Battle of Appomattox was won by the Union. We’ve gotten word that Confederate General Robert E. Lee has surrendered. After the battle of Gettysburg I had faith in the Union, but it’s still hard to believe that it’s all finally over. Sherman’s March was a success, or so they say. It was a long and tiring journey, a tragic one as well. I would be lying if I said we didn’t play a part in the surrender of the Rebels. But how could they possibly forget what they did to you, to poor little Zeke? It’s been four months since your demise on the ninth of December. Gosh, if only I hadn’t been so far ahead. I’ve been doing lots of work here in Savannah, it’s much warmer in Georgia than I could have ever imagined. I’ll do anything to distract me from thinking about you. You couldn’t imagine how hard it is to mask my sorrow. 

I’m unsure that I can stay here any longer. All it brings me is pain. Everyday I think about how I could have done something to protect you. We could have crossed Ebenezer Creek and made it to Savannah together. There is no use for me as a pioneer to the Union anymore. My plan was to keep moving south, so I suppose that’s what I’ll do. I just don’t want to have to move on without you. Grief is like the ocean. Sometimes the reckless waves swallow you whole as you drown in the sound of your silent screams. Sometimes the water is tranquil and steady, and other times it’s overwhelming. Only you would understand what is going through my mind. The same thoughts that filled my head when I lost my sister, and when I lost my mother and father. I didn’t think I had any more tears to spare. I feel lost and alone in this war, and I am still unsure about the true intentions of the Union. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to forgive them after the Ebenezer Creek Massacre. They say that they want to end slavery, but many don’t even care. They constantly try to dehumanize us. What have we really been fighting for?

Sometimes I hear your laughter in the wind and see your face in the clouds. I miss your soft smile and your gentle touch. Although it hurts me, I must move on. I’d like to think that you have been reading my letters though I know you never will. Today, on the evening of April ninth, 1865, I write you my final letter. May you Rest In Peace my dearest Mariah.

Sincerely, 

Caleb