Dear Rose,
I don't know how to begin this letter but I suppose I should start with an explanation. I thought you died on the Titanic and I assume you thought the same about me. I don't really remember what happened. I just remember listening to you singing. Then there was darkness and coldness. I opened my eyes and I was underwater. I swam to the surface but you were nowhere near. I tried looking for you, but I guess I passed out again while clinging to a deck chair. The next thing I knew, I was in a bed and being told by the captain of the Californian that I was a survivor of Titanic and they'd found me amongst the debris. He showed me a survivor list and you weren't on it. I mourned you, I wept for you, and my heart broke over your death. The captain advised me not to tell anyone I was a survivor because I would just be bombarded by the press. So I wasn't on the survivor list. Then he gave me a job on his ship, which is where I have been living and working for the past 10 years.
A few months ago, as I'm sure you're aware, it was the 10th anniversary of the sinking. The 10th anniversary of your supposed death. And to you, the anniversary of my death as well. We were docked for a while and when I went to buy the news paper, it turned out to be a special edition in honor of Titanic. There were survivor lists deep inside it and I casually checked to see if my name had ever been put on it in the last 10 years. I spotted my last name—not my first. The name "Rose" was in its place. With a fast beating heart, I contacted the people of the White Star Line and found out that a Rose Dawson never boarded the ship. I knew it was you. I knew you were safe and alive.
It took me 2 months to work up the nerve to contact you, once I tracked you down. I don't know what to say to you now. Part of me—a big part of me—hopes that you kept your promise to me and you went on with your life. But a smaller part is praying that you didn't. Because, dear Rose, you may not remember much about me, but there hasn't been and will never be a day when I won't think of you and I will always want you back in my life.
I guess you could say that I went on with my life too. I used to be a wreck. Right after you 'died' I mean. I cried and felt so empty inside. I don't cry anymore. But I still feel empty. Because even though I went on with my life, it has still been 10 years since I ever really looked at another girl. I just didn't want to.
If you don't want to write me back, you don't have to. I just thought you should know that we were both wrong. I'm alive and healthy. I'm no longer a street rat. I'm the 2nd commanding officer on the Californian. I make good wages and have some good friends. But I don't, and most likely never will, have you. That's okay. If you have kept your promise to me, then that's okay. That's good. At least now I can sleep easy knowing that you didn't die because of me.
I hope you got this letter. And I will always love you.
Love,
Jack Dawson.