End of the Line

During her last years my cousin Anne devoted a great deal of time to researching family history. On her death I inherited a black box file bearing the name , William Benson.
William Benson was my father. I have no real recollection of him. Of course, I have family pictures inherited from my mother, but most of them are photographs of my parents, and in nearly all of them my father is wearing an army uniform. I have only one picture of us as a family group. In it my mother, father, and I appear to be sitting on the steps of a summer cottage. I am dangling on my father's knee and he seems to be looking at me with loving eyes. At least I like to think of it that way.
On opening the file I discovered a battered leather wallet. Hidden away in an inner pocket I discovered several sheets of neatly folded paper that had browned with age. Written on the paper was the rough draft of a letter - a letter dated the day before I was born. Maybe my father wrote it as he awaited my delivery.
Stunned by the contents of the letter, and wondering if it had ever been posted, I was inspired to research my family history.
"End of the Line", is the product of that investigation.