17, May
Dearest ones,
It is my great regret not to have written of all the many happenings of the month past. I humbly beg your forgiveness. Perhaps you’ll grant it when my tale today is done?
Those who are closest to me know of the sadness which has filled my heart these many months. My morose countenance was only bested by the melancholy nature of my writing. My dearest ones, I beg your indulgence as I write of things which weighed heavily upon my heart and mind.
Many months ago a parting of company took place. A parting from which I thought I’d readily recover. Yet, day after day, it pulled on my heart and brought naught but sorrow to me. The breaking of my heart was of my own doing, yet knowledge of my reasons made it not one bit easier to abide. Och, who here among you has not chosen wrongly? Yet, how few are granted the chance to make it right?
My dearest held on. Aye, held on with strong hands, a sharp mind and an open heart. Our daily correspondence became the ties which bind; his words were matched by his deeds and when asked a small question with no words, my heart and my lips flew to his.
T’is my greatest pleasure to share with you, we shan’t be parted so readily again. One knows not what the future holds, yet of this I am certain; we shall face it together as partners, separate yet equal, stronger each by the other, with grace, humor (much humor!) and humility. I forsake imperiousness, eschew ego and offer nothing but myself.
My friends, your listening ears have given me strength, your words of kindness have been heartfelt and your prayers on our behalf have been heard. To say a simple thank you seems impossibly inept, yet there are no other words to offer you. I most humbly and sincerely thank you. Thank you. Thank you!
The words I wish to say to my dearest Mr. Mains are private and shan’t be shared even with the closest of you. But know ye, they begin with “I am sorry,” and end with “I love you.”
Suzanne
