Maybe cry

and as I unfold it a small white feather falls lightly out from it and drifts into my lap. I slowly reach down and pick it up. I feel a huge knot work up into my throat and I almost lose it. I even feel a tear start to form from the duct. And I never cry. Ever. There's no doubt that this letter is from wife. My dead wife. Damn it. Curiousity swells in me. I'm overcome with it. I feel like I'm on fire. I tear the letter open to read it.

Dear Love,

I meant you no harm. I only felt I couldn't bear another second of continuing to cause you so much pain. Pain and suffering you were experiencing because you felt you couldn't do anything to help me. God knows you tried. Speaking of God, I'm not so sure that's who I'm hanging out with at the moment because of the way I decided to handle things. I took my life into my own hands instead of leaving it to God's will. For that, I'm sure I will pay dearly. But I was paying dearly every moment I was awake. My brutal past was too much for me to overcome and be able to live a normal productive life. I couldn't be the wife I should have been, or the mother I should have been. I struggled day and night with so many past demons that functioning properly became too hard. I fought hard. I truly did. I want you to know that. I want you to know how much I loved you. But I couldn't keeping losing my battles within myself. So, I had to end it. For me. For you. I felt it best for everyone. I know you will find someone who will fill the void I left and can be a great mother to our kids. Everyone, I truly believe, has more than one soul mate out there, and I know that she or he I even suppose (NTTATWWT) will be much better than I. And a much better wife and companion to you. I was only tearing you apart, and I couldn't bear to keep doing it. I could see it in your eyes how much you were hurting. It was out of my control and for that I am sorry. I love you. That is to say, with all the heart I had that wasn't blackened by my past evilness. I thought I could beat it, I realy did. And with all the help I got, I was sure to win, but it's grip was too great and I lost. I lost it all and it tears me apart even as I write this to you, knowing the pain and anger you must be feeling right now. I know I had no right to do this, but I hope you will maybe one day understand. You knew me better than anyone. You got in deeper than anyone. You were my best friend.

As I knew I was losing my battle I secretly stashed away some of mother's inheritance as to buy you all a small gift. I know nice huh? Well, I know it's one that you have drempt of forever and thought it never possible. But I at least wanted to do something positive for you guys since I couldn't seem to accomplish it while alive. ANd I left you with something so negative. I asked the bank to hold this letter for 6 months to give you guys time to heal a little. Sorry for shaking you up, which I'm certain it did. I know you, rememeber. You probably said, "How the hell did she write this, she's been dead for 6 fuckin months". "Somebodies playing a sick joke on me." I reall am sorry about that. That was a little mean, but I felt it necessary. You may call Mr. Matthews at the bank and he will further instruct you on what to do. Please, remember me always, as you were my knight in shining armour who saved me from the depths of hell, and you always made me feel safe and secure while being held in your arms, especially in front the fireplace where you often did much more than just hold me. You filled me. You filled me completely for that small moment in time, and if I could have turned that into a weapon to fight this evil inside me I would have. But just know that you did everything right, I mean you were even a great toe sucker, and we all know how hard those are to find these days. But you are a good man and you will carry on without me. You are strong. The strongest and most intelligent human being I've ever known. Only holding fond memories of a me and keeping them locked up tightly in that great big heart of yours. I love you, you big turd. Kiss the boys often for me and tell I hear them whenever they speak to me. Tell them to look at the feather and think of mommy. Goodbye my Irish Prince.

I wept like a fucking baby for hours. Thank God the kids were staying at their grandpas for a few days.