A Letter from Mary


You promised you'd take me there again someday, but you never did.

Well, I'm alone there now, in our special place, waiting for you, waiting for you to come to see me, but you never do.

And so I wait, wrapped in my cocoon of pain and loneliness, something you'll never forgive me for.

I wish I could change that.

I feel so pathetic and ugly laying here, waiting for you.

Every day I stare up at the cracks in the ceiling, and all I can think about is how unfair it all is.

He told me I could go home for a short stay. It's not that I'm getting better, it's just that this may be my last chance.

And even so, I'm glad to be coming home.

I've missed you terribly.

But I'm afraid, James. I'm afraid you don't really come see me, how hard it is on you.

I don't know if you hate me or pity me, or maybe I just disgust you.

When I first learned that I was going to die, I just didn't want to accept it. I was so angry all the time, and I struck out at everyone I loved most, especially you, James.

That's why I understand if you do hate me.

You know this, James. I'll always love you.

Even though our life together had to end like this, I still wouldn't trade it for that we had some wonderful years together.

This letter's gone on too long, so I'll say goodbye.

The nurse will give this to you after, as you read this, I can't tell you to remember me, but I can't bear for you to forget me