Hi baby. Got your letter, but I've been so darn busy, you wouldn't believe! Besides all the normal stuff, we got some new girls in, and we're having an inspection Tuesday, so we've been trying to get everything cleaned up and ready (and we had the house exterminated too, and had to get everything out of the kitchen, etc.). And I've had a bunch of paperwork to catch up on. So this will be short, 'cause I'm having to work this weekend to get everything done. I'll be off Monday, and maybe one more day later in the week.
I go back to the doctor Monday to get the rest of my tests done. I don't have a spot on my thyroid or my lung. I think that doctor I went to before is nuts. This is a good doctor, and a good hospital, and it's free. It's a woman doctor and I like that too. So I feel a lot better about it.
I'm having to pack up all of Pat's stuff so I can move into her room and that's a full time job in itself. But I'm going to write David tonight, and hope he's still there. I sure hope he is, and will write me back.
Hope you're doing okay. I'm very proud of you, ya know. And I love you gobs too. Sorry this is short. Maybe I can do better next time.
It's funny, but the last part of this letter sounds like what you might say to me today, the "this is short" being our very brief time together. Eighteen years was all we had, yet it feels longer. Maybe we can both do better "next time". Or maybe we can both keep doing better right now. You are still here. I can feel you, like a ghost who isn't finished. Maybe my understanding of our eighteen years works as a midwife, delivering us both into a shared state of grace, a greater peace, the heaven you would finally describe as "a state of mind".