July 12, 1971: The Luckiest Girl Alive
Send us a text In this letter, my mom writes, “I’m the luckiest girl alive.” And reading it now, I believe her. If someone loved me the way my dad loved her — I’d feel like the luckiest girl alive too. She had just received two letters and a tape from him in Vietnam. She tells him she could’ve sworn he was right there in bed talking to her. And then she laughs at her own voice on the tape she recorded back — calls it horrible, but says it’s sent in love. She’d just fixed the recorder that w...
In this letter, my mom writes, “I’m the luckiest girl alive.” And reading it now, I believe her. If someone loved me the way my dad loved her — I’d feel like the luckiest girl alive too.
She had just received two letters and a tape from him in Vietnam. She tells him she could’ve sworn he was right there in bed talking to her. And then she laughs at her own voice on the tape she recorded back — calls it horrible, but says it’s sent in love. She’d just fixed the recorder that weekend, just in time to hear him. And she picked up where he left off — taping a message right back.
But here’s the part I haven’t said out loud until now: I think I know exactly what tapes she was talking about. I think I found them once — after she died.
My dad passed away on February 22, 2020, at 4:44 PM. Less than two weeks later, the world shut down for COVID. I had just a few days to clear out his apartment, alone, after caring for him through cancer. Then that fall, my mom — who had lived in Florida for years — got sick. She was admitted to the hospital the Monday after Thanksgiving and diagnosed with acute myeloid leukemia. She died on December 28. It was still COVID. I was still alone.
No one came with me. No one helped. I was grieving, in shock, and doing it all — again. I handled the funeral home. Cleaned out her house. Sold her car. Sorted through years of artwork and letters. And deep in one of her dresser drawers, I found a bag of cassette tapes. But I didn’t know what they were. I didn’t think I had any way to play them. I was completely overwhelmed — and I threw them away.
I didn’t know what I was throwing away.
Now, I think I do.
It breaks my heart to know those tapes are gone. But what I still have — are these letters. And through them, I can still hear their voices. Even when the recordings are lost.
The Allgoods: Vietnam Through the Eyes of Love is a personal podcast project based on real letters exchanged between Capt. Richard Allgood and Capt. Sarah Allgood during the Vietnam War. Photos of the original letters, family snapshots, and behind-the-scenes commentary are available for supporters.
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