July 15, 1971: Writing Through the Distance, Loving Through the Fog

This letter from July 15, 1971 was written by my dad, Captain Dick Allgood, from Vietnam to my mom, Sarah, back home in San Antonio. It’s soft, steady, and full of love — the kind of love that makes plans, sends letters ahead to new addresses, and counts quarters in “the pot” for future joy. He tells her he’s tired, not feeling great, but what pulls him through — always — is writing to her.

It’s the first of two letters he wrote that day. He talks about their upcoming R&R, the baby on the way, and the simple hope of resting, reading old letters, and dreaming of her.

As I read this one, it’s the morning of the Fourth Annual Dick Allgood Community Bingo Tournamenthere in Big Sky — an event held in honor of my dad, where all proceeds go back to support the local community. It’s meant to be a joyful day. And it is. But somehow, this day always hits me harder than I expect. Last night, I listened to recordings I made during his cancer treatments — things I haven’t heard since he died — and they reminded me just how deeply he wanted to live. And how deeply I still miss both my parents.

These letters help me stay close to them. So I’m here, still reading, still remembering, and doing my best to keep going — one day, one letter at a time