Dearest Joshua,

These will be the final words of mine that you shall read.  By the time these words reach you, the poison will have claimed me.  I will always love you and I will always love the man Barnabas was.  Tonight, you showed me a capacity for care I thought was a distant memory.  For that, I thank you.

Our son is a murderer, and for that, someone must atone.  There was little meaning to our lives.  Now, there is none.  Tragedy is now the constant rule rather than a passing exception.  In such a world, I cannot continue.  You can, and thus, you are worthy of living, perhaps because of your stalwart inability to love.  I have not the strength for that.





One Comment on “458”

  1. mrsgreenhands June 3, 2013 at 12:57 am #

    Reblogged this on Mrsgreenhands’s Weblog.

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