The Passage

Little sweetheart, I've had an incredible amount of stomach pain for the last two days. I guess I have a particularly virulent strain of the flu or something. I texted your dad because it was really quite severe. I'm doing a bit better today but Monday night was almost unbearable and kind of scary. I couldn't really sleep. It felt like I imagine appendicitis to feel like. It was that bad. And the reason I'm telling you, little sweetheart, is that I really did kind of hope that it meant I might die.

I've thought this way sometimes when I have chest pains - that if it gets worse, I'll just welcome it, not call for help or medical attention but just ride it out and hopefully right into your arms and the Forever. It's an odd thing to say, I suppose, and I've learned that I have to be careful, when and where and how and who I say things like this to, because well-meaning people can send the authorities for you and lock you right up without any recourse, taking away your autonomy and all rights, if they want to. It actually happened to me a few months after your tragic passing, so I know. I have to be careful. Can't trust people with this.

But I wanted to tell you. I welcome the passage. I want to be returned to you. I think of it every day. Some days more intently than others, but every day. May it come soon. May I be returned to you. I feel a kind of dizziness and a sensation in the air as if our life was nearly within reach.

Take me to you. I love you with all my heart and soul. Forever, Forever.