As I write this letter, the ocean breeze feels cool on my skin. That very ocean is soon to be my grave. They tell me I will die a hero. That the safety and honor of my country will be the reward for my sacrifice. I pray they are right. My only regret in life is never telling you how I feel. I wish I were back home. I wish I were holding your hand. I wish I were telling you that I have loved you, and only you, since I was a boy. But I’m not. I see now that death is easy. It is love that is hard. As my plane dives, I will not see the face of my enemies. I will instead see your eyes, like black rocks frozen in rainwater. They tell us that we must scream, “Banzai,” as we plunge into our target. I will instead whisper your name. And in death, as in life, I will remain forever yours.