Dear Mom, dear Dad, beloved sister,
While reading this, you'll have the feeling that we didn't say goodbye properly. That you've failed. Please don't.
You've done nothing wrong. On the contrary, you did everything to help me, to soothe the pain. And I am grateful.
For your smiles. Your hugs. Your jokes. Your endless and unconditional love.
But unlike in fairytales, there's no good fairy with a magic wand.
The pain has become a strange constant in my life, like a dull, but terrible itch on a spot I can't reach. No matter how much I toss and turn.
The morphine is a helping hand, but it's exhaustingly temporary.
Don't ask me to endure this for the rest of my life.
Don't ask me to end dying in an anonymous, white hospital room.
Don't ask me to watch you despair by my side.
I know that I'm selfish. But I won't apologize; I just can't take it anymore.
So I made this one last trip to Barafundle Bay. You know how much I love this place. How many happy memories linger here.
My legacy to you is one last request.
I want you to look forward. To smile again. I know you can do it, for I'll be watching over you.
Remember the good times and don't let the grieve overwhelm you. Be strong enough to carry on without me.
I raise a morphine toast to you all. Saying thank you, for making my life worth living.
I love you endlessly.
Always yours
James