By: John Silva – December 2022
My Dear Mary Beth,
It seems that death is near, and I am without hope. It is doubtful that I will make it through this terrible winter. The cold is so bitter. And, my hands are so stiff and frozen I can hardly write. And, when the wind blows it cuts you like a knife so I try to stay inside as much as possible. There is no food or water and everyone is desperate. I’m wishing you what may be my last Merry Christmas… from Ukraine.
Love, Mom