I didn't know why her voice lost its usual touch of warmth and expectation when she answered my phone call. I was so careless that I simply attributed her coldness to one of her bad moods.

I still remember what it was like before I was transferred to this prison in Hualien. Every time she came to see me, we always pressed our hands against the acrylic windows which separated prisoners from visitors, and we tried to transmit our deep affection for each other through the cold plastic. She always said to me, "Darling, you just stay there and don't worry about anything. I'll wait for you to come back." "Thank you, thank you so much." I was so moved that tears rushed down my face.

We had been married for almost seven years, but friends always said that we were more like lovers than a married couple. Indeed I loved and doted on her. Yet my extramarital affairs, my drinking and my idleness also made her suffer a lot.

Maybe she was touched by all the attention I paid her--at night I used to warm her quilt with a blow-dryer, and I often prepared soup and stewed chicken for her. A woman's heart was so easily bought. She stood by me even after I, under the influence of alcohol, killed a man. She refused to divorce me and insisted on waiting for me to finish my prison term.

But one day I received a thick letter from her. I expected it to be a typical love letter like all those she had sent me before, and I was totally unprepared for the cold formality of the salutation. An ill foreboding ran through me.

What she said in the letter came like a thunderbolt. My strength seemed to desert me and I was short of breath. "No, I don't want a divorce," I thought. "You promised me that you would wait for me to come back home. You said your love for me was higher than the mountains and deeper than the sea. How can you leave me at a time when I need you the most? How can you bear to hurt someone who loves you so deeply?"

The next day, with tears in my eyes, I called my wife and implored her not to leave me, but she wouldn't listen to me. Nothing I said or promised could change her mind. Knowing that there was no chance for me to win her heart back, I was completely lost in despair.

I had a sleepless night. After what seemed like a century, the dawn finally broke and the sky gradually lightened up. I tried to calm myself down by listening to a tape of Buddhist mantras. The rhythmic chanting soothed my broken heart and with every chanted phrase my heart grew more and more peaceful. As the tears on my face dried, I felt I was better able to face the pain of losing my wife.

The Forty-Two Chapter Sutra says, "From passion grows anxiety, from anxiety grows fear. If we let go of our passion, we will be free of anxiety and fear." So I told myself to let go. If my wife and I were destined to be together, we would meet again one day. Now her heart was no longer with me. The best I could do was to let go of my attachment to her and go on with my own life. I knew it would be hard to forget her, but I believed I would pull through. Maybe she had found someone who was really worthy of her love. Why not just pray for her and wish her the best? I believe that this is the best way to show my love for her.