I know that I often annoyed you with my advice and petty obsessions. Do you remember that tartan scarf that you never wanted to wear to school? We played a little game every day when it was cold outside. I would pull it up around your ears in the morning. And in the afternoon, when you came home, I would find it at the bottom of your schoolbag. I just wanted you to be warm, and you were afraid you would look silly in front of your friends. Pardon my handwriting. It’s so unsteady. But it is not so much my hands that hurt or the fact that I’m getting weaker and weaker. I’m trembling because I barely have the courage to tell you so many things that I should have told you long before I became so frail. Pain and sickness are nothing, compared to what I have needed to reveal for so long. How many times did I try? How many times did I change my mind and back down? God forgive me for lying out of fear, cowardice, and the prospect of losing you! I spent my life lying to you, your brother, your sister, even myself.
