Imagine yourself as the postmaster in the lesson the letter and write a diary entry for the day you got to know about Ali's death
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Dear Diary,
I know now the value of each letter. It is a warm, beating heart; priceless to the receiver. I realize what Ali must have gone through, waiting anxiously for a letter that came, but came too late. Here I am now, waiting for one more night for my daughter’s letter, assuring me that all is well with her and that she sends me her love. Ali lived for five long years and died in the hope that his Miriam will write to her. But I had seen Ali this morning, with my very eyes. He was stooped double with age, yet when he lifted his eyes to look at me, I was shocked at the unearthly light that shone in them. And then he had vanished. Ali had indeed died three months back. I put the letter on his grave myself. Oh, how I wish that I had been more patient and understanding with him on his last day instead of brushing him aside with impatience. I am grateful to God that he gave me the opportunity of delivering Miriam’s letter to Ali with my own hands. I am sure now that Ali is at peace in Heaven. His letter, for which he has waited patiently for five years at the post office, finally arrived. I pray that God forgive me for my sins and take care of my own daughter and indeed, all the daughters in the world. Let no separation be so painful that the medium of a letter cannot bridge the gap between two loving hearts.
I know now the value of each letter. It is a warm, beating heart; priceless to the receiver. I realize what Ali must have gone through, waiting anxiously for a letter that came, but came too late. Here I am now, waiting for one more night for my daughter’s letter, assuring me that all is well with her and that she sends me her love. Ali lived for five long years and died in the hope that his Miriam will write to her. But I had seen Ali this morning, with my very eyes. He was stooped double with age, yet when he lifted his eyes to look at me, I was shocked at the unearthly light that shone in them. And then he had vanished. Ali had indeed died three months back. I put the letter on his grave myself. Oh, how I wish that I had been more patient and understanding with him on his last day instead of brushing him aside with impatience. I am grateful to God that he gave me the opportunity of delivering Miriam’s letter to Ali with my own hands. I am sure now that Ali is at peace in Heaven. His letter, for which he has waited patiently for five years at the post office, finally arrived. I pray that God forgive me for my sins and take care of my own daughter and indeed, all the daughters in the world. Let no separation be so painful that the medium of a letter cannot bridge the gap between two loving hearts.
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