Hi Madre, It’s almost midnight, a random day in January. I’m cheating a little—I’ve never started writing to you this early before your death date but since this is my thing, I get to make the rules. I’m feeling a little naive that I make such a big deal out of having people that love me and I have no one to call right now as I am curled up on this chair sobbing. I suppose that’s unfair to a lot of people in my life, I should be precise— I would feel bad, a menace, if I called any of them. I hardly ever feel this way and it’s like the loneliness is trying to seep into my bones and take up permanent residence there and I am trying to fight it.
I have said it many times before… I am only a phone call away if you ever need anything… even to cry! Love you!