Dear Raven,

This is the thirteenth annual letter I've written to you and your spirit—which lives on, fortunately in your children and I. I see it every so often when we visit your parents and your not-so-little-anymore brother, Billy.

Already, Jack and Alexandra are teenagers. Remember the day you had them? I couldn't believe it either. Twins! They are quite alright at the moment, enjoying our time watching Hocus Pocus. You told me you liked that movie once, right?

Jack's hair has gotten very long. He implores me not to cut it. Although, I must say he looks a lot like me with it that way. Only, his is much more so longer. You'll always see at least a thick lock in the middle of his face, as if something black is splitting the white canvas. It's inspired me to paint again, after all of this time.

He's such a great writer. I wish you could hear his stories. They inspire so many thoughts and images. But who knows? Maybe you can hear him from where you are. You said something once about becoming one with the night? Maybe you're a star out there, still shining in the darkness, just like always.

Sorry for the smudges, I just miss you so much. But don't worry! I'm still happy as ever with the kids. I love them and you so much. It's just, I wish you could live to see them age and grow and smile. Alexandra's grown to be quite the poet. Last night she sang one to me. It was about you.

My mother's lullaby was my father's echoing tone,

Now she's stuck under a slab of polished stone.

So now I'll never see her, not once more,

At least not in life, so I'll see her again,

I'll see my mother again, to see what's in store,

I'll see my mother again, when this life ends.

And when I see her, I'll be with my kin,

And when I see her, she'll be wearing a large grin.

So don't cry Daddy, we'll see Mommy again.

Don't cry siblings, we'll see her again,

And when we see her, we will all be wearing

Big grins.

I'm so sorry. I promised you I wouldn't cry, didn't I? In last year's letter. I miss you so much, Raven.

Anyways, your other son, Ghost? I keep apologizing for his name. I know with Alexandra's, you wanted a name like mine. And Jack, well, we were suckers for this classic I guess. But as for Ghost, I keep feeling bad about his name. I hope you like it anyways. I named him after the Mansion's myth about hauntings—how it brought me and you together.

This is my fault. I'm so sorry our children have to suffer. They have to go through so much pain, just because I didn't want to change you. They're half-breeds, half vampire, half human. They'll never truly belong to the night—but they won't ever truly belong to day either. So, they're stuck in a place inbetween, a place that's miserable and sorrowful. Coupled with the absence of a mother and the fact that the bullying will only get tougher from here on out—I keep telling them your stories—how you survived your own life before you met me, someone to share your interests with. But, I remind them, they always have each other. And me. And Uncle Billy and Grandma and Grandpa. Ghost especially suffers, with not just his name, but the separation of his age from his brother and sister, not to mention his shy nature. I think he got that from me, like before I met you.

I'm dragging things out. I apologize. Billy had a healthy baby girl. He named her after you. She's got the same expression you used to have all the time too.

Everyone's healthy. We're content, trying to get on with our lives without you. It's hard, but we are. So don't fret and don't worry. I love you so much.

With love,

Alexander

P.S. Been giving Ghost a few drawing and painting lessons. He's taken to it quite well. Maybe next year, we'll put a drawing along with the letter for you to see. And maybe when Jack finishes his story, we'll attach that too. Until next time we meet.