By the time you read this I will have taken my own life.
After losing my father three years ago, my mother preached
to my brothers and me to treasure our lives, what’s torn can be mended.
Mother’s word did not prevail.
I wish to apologize for disappearing these last few years.
After the restaurant fell through, I fell inept at moving on with life. The
Homestead meant so much to my father, earning his tuition to Yale through dirty
dishes and oil burns. Once the fire hit, my world fell apart.
I know my timing is off and you deserved to know this
sooner. I just couldn’t bear to see you again. I will forever love you, Jenny,
so your denial of us being lovers shatters my heart. I intend not to leave you
feeling guilty, though. Rather, I’d like to share with you something I should
have told you years ago:
You have a powerful beauty. I could stare into your hazel
eyes for hours, all the while completely captured by your radiance. I know your
heart is set on David and I know he treats you well. I was never good enough
for you, this is clear, but I need you to know that having you in my life has
been the greatest pleasure.
May this letter not sadden you; rather let it serve as my
goodbye. I am gone, and no longer a bother to you, just an angel bringing you
light.
Have a good life, Jenny.
Love, Robert.
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