Dear Daniel,
If you're reading this, I'm gone. If you're reading this and I'm not gone, get off my computer, you snoop. But if I am… pull it together. You've died twice already; it's my turn.
Thanks for taking care of the estate stuff. I know it's no picnic. I tried to collate all the information into one file so you wouldn't have to dig. If I missed anything, I'm sorry. Don't spend too much on the funeral. Cut flowers are such a waste.
Please watch over Cassandra for me. That may be harder than figuring out my estate taxes; she doesn't make it easy. She tried to distance herself when Janet died – I think she knew this day would come. She's lost too much already; please don't let her slip away. She needs a family, whether she says she wants it or not.
You have been family to me practically from the moment we met, Daniel. I still remember the first time I saw you, with your glasses and your shaggy hair. We were both so young and so naive, and I clung to you as a kindred spirit. In a very real way, we grew up together, you and I. We may not share DNA, but you have always been my brother. I love you beyond measure. It never seemed right to say it, but I hope you knew that while I was alive, and I hope you feel it now.
You are destined for such incredible things. The years I got to share that destiny with you were the best years of my life, and despite everything we've been through, you and SG-1 brought me such incredible joy. Thank you for the laughter and the hugs and the unfailing support. The hard decisions were never as difficult with you beside me.
Stop crying; it fogs up your glasses (or screws up your contacts).
I love you.
Sam