ginny

February 5

Dearest Ev,

I don’t know quite how to get to this so I’ll just come out and say it. I’m sick. And it’s not a cold or the flu or the chicken pox. Remember when we had the chicken pox? You had them first, and I slept next to you in the top bunk to make sure I got them, too. This is a sickness I wouldn’t share with you. I wouldn’t wish it on my dear sister—on anyone. They have me on medicine. It’s called Aricept, and I think it helps, but I’m not the best judge of myself lately. I do notice a difference if I miss a dose, so that says something.

I have good days and bad days. We’ve been through a lot as a family, but Bill has shown me that he truly meant it when he said “forever.”

The kids are really being wonderful, but I’m still brokenhearted over Brett and Layla, who haven’t quite found their way back to each other yet. I’m hoping they do. But now I’m afraid you’ll never hear about it if or when it happens, and that’s made it all that much harder. Because as much as it pains me, it’s time I stop writing you. I’ll always miss you, but I’ll need all my strength and focus to wage this fight, and where I’m going I don’t think you can help me. Bill and my doctors agree. In fact, Bill is insisting I stop writing these letters to you and I don’t have it in me to argue right now.

You know I’ve always loved you and looked up to you, and you’ve helped me get through a lot—more than you could ever imagine. For the next stage of my life, I’ve got my family.

See you in heaven. (I hope not too soon.)
Ginny