I’ve said about all I can say. They’re putting me to sleep soon with a big dose of painkiller that will help me get through to the end. Just in time, too: it’s a horrible thing, your body tearing itself apart. I hope this met your expectations. It felt good sharing, but surely you could see it all for yourself.
Focus! Focus! This is a love letter, not a… goodbye note. We’re going to be together again soon, just like you promised. It wasn’t a hallucination in the hospital; it was real. I have to believe that. Oh, how I have to believe that!
I’m thinking about you. How you look, how you feel. What a beautiful thing it was to hold each other again; and we’ll get to do it whenever we want, for eternity.
Remember the first time, the day after we met? How appropriate that it was Valentine’s Day. You laughed, and held my hand. It was our first date, and you laughed at me! Then you were so tender, like we’d known each other our whole lives. That scene at dinner, with the whole restaurant watching us, that’s what I want to hold on to.
Your loving eyes. I almost cried when I saw them close up. You smiled, and I was in ecstasy. That was what you did for me every day we were together, and I am so grateful. So very grateful.
They’re here. The twins look so sad. They don’t want to say goodbye, but they know it’s for the best.
I decided to tell them about our meeting and my letter to you, sharing this final solace that has helped me hang on. For some reason they found it funny. They’re apologizing, but it makes them just laugh more. It’s been too long since I’ve seen them so… relieved.
Oh, my. What a gift. Like this, they have your eyes.