To be honest, Jedediah, I wish it was only you in the know about my condition. I hate to put some much uncertainty on your shoulders, but you are the only one I feel I can confess my final words to.
Do not look at this as a goodbye, Jedediah. Look at my words as a well written ending to a long and meaningful story. A life story is nothing to take lightly. As soon as we are born, Fate writes the words of our story on us like we are a binding of paper. Each year of our lives is a new chapter. And like a book, our story has a main character, ourselves. And as well as a main character, there are the supporting characters. The people who help us. The people who support us. The people who love us for who we are and never leave us when chapters written in the darkest ink are published. People like you, Jedediah.
You helped write my story. When my life was at its lowest, you took up the pen and wrote on my pages. You helped publish my story, and now, it has come to an end.
Fires of death burn the storybooks of life. The flames lick against my pages as I write to you now. I want you to help restore the worn paper of my life. Remember me, Jedediah.
For many years we have walked on this path together, but now, we part ways.
Jedediah, my friend I never meant to hurt you. I tried to fight it. But this illness is stronger than me. I can fight it no longer. It is time for me to go.
Do not cry, Jedediah. You have given me the best years of my life, and for that, I thank you. But now, it is the end.
I leave everything to you, Jedediah. I beg that you take care of my men. You are a wonderful leader, and I know you will take care of them.
Jedediah, please do not mourn my death. Remember me, and take care of yourself.
Goodbye, my brother, it is time for me to go.