Another Riddle

A death you could quietly cover...
Over placid water
Ripples sprinkle now and then.
You never did see beauty in nature,
Only in me.
But where the sun shines
Your heart can be calmed
And healed by water's edge...
You always said you didn't understand
what I meant
When I said
"Someday you'll die too,
I've always thought it was best
that I went first."
Even now,
You can't make the connection,
Though all along you've been capable.
And in these letters, you write
Sweet soft words,
As if you write to one long past...
But I've been here,
Longer then one such as yourself,
At least.
But not quite as long as the sun shines,
And never as long
as the letters you write...
The parchment now yellowed,
Laying nearly broken
In my hand.
The words faded,
But they hold no less meaning, now.
Three words,
Almost repetitive,
And all but ironic.
You gave them to me as a gift,
Not wrapped in ribbons,
But in truth and purity...
I love you, too.
Though now it's surely too late,
And you're just another figure of the past.
Another riddle
For the Historian to solve.

* With love to whomever wishes to feel it*