Dear Jethro

There are some things that cannot be said face to face; things that are best put down on paper. Here, that is the case, and why I am writing this letter. However, I write this letter also through cowardice; I know that by talking of the two things I wish to tell you of in this letter, I can tell you of them myself, without having to tell you face to face, and knowing that when you do come to read this letter, I will no longer be alive.

I am dying, Jethro. I have not spoken of this to anyone, except Dr. Mallard. He knows of my illness and I have sworn him to secrecy; please do not hold a grudge with him come the time you read this. Dr. Mallard wants me to tell you, but I cannot bring myself to do so, for which I apologise. It hurts me more to say the things I need to say out loud, especially to you – it makes them all the more real. Dr. Mallard is a very loyal man; I do hope you can understand that he was put in an awkward position. I live my last days in the faith he has kept his word. I will not go into anymore detail on the matter of my health; I do not feel it necessary.

I come to the second reason for writing. Part of me feelings you may already be aware of my feelings for you, but I need to make sure you do.

I love you, Jethro, so so much. I have done for a long time. I loved what we had back in Paris, and I loved you then and still love you now. I miss Paris, and what we had, but I understand things have changed. Not so long ago, I asked what happened, and you said I had made a choice. You were right, Jethro, but that hasn't stopped me loving you.

Paris was special, and something I will never forget. You make love to me unlike any other man ever has, or ever will. I wish we could have what we had in Paris again now, Jethro. Now my life expectancy is significantly reduced, I realise that even more so, but I know that it is too late.

I hope I have not hurt you – I have never intended to do so. Please know that I'll always love you, and always have a place for you in my heart.

I will not get to say 'good-bye' to you, and plan for you to read this after it happens, so I shall conclude with what is to be my final good-bye.

Au revoir

Jenny