My dearest son,

Yesterday, for the first time in months, the voices in my head finally quieted enough to allow me to put down in words what I feel I need to say to you. God willing, I will be al

First, I want you to know that I didn't make this decision lightly. How do I explain? I've been living with this disease now for over thirty years and I am just so very tired. Tired of the smiling doctors and their medications that leave me feeling as if every thought is an effort; tired of the lack of privacy, even in my own head; and especially tired of all my so called friends and relatives who are afraid to visit because they never know what kind of a mood that I'll be in. They say they understand that it's the schizophrenia that makes me behave the way I do, but they don't really. And because they don't, it scares and disgusts them. I scare and disgust them.

Except for you, Bobby. You have only ever shown me love; have never made me feel that my illness makes me less of a person. I remember you telling me once that although my disease hurt you frequently; nothing I did ever could. Please remember that as you read this letter. If not for holding onto that memory, I would have found a way to do this long ago..

How can I desert you when you have stood by me, supported me and loved me all these years?

I wish I could explain it better but I just don't have the words, Bobby. Every hour I spend staring at the four walls of this room, trying to bring order to my thoughts; those hours just seem to drag by and yet somehow, when I am blessed with these brief periods of lucidity, I realize that those same hours have melted into days and years. The worst of it is that each period of lucidity brings with it the hope that perhaps this time it will last. Even now, a part of me whispersmaybe this time maybe the voices are gone forever. I have spent my youth and middle age clinging to that illusion. But it's never true. This is a cruel, cruel disease and I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy. I am so grateful that you have been spared the misery of experiencing my affliction first-hand..

I want you to know that for many years now, you have been the only bright light in the dark and turbulent chaos that is my life. I pray that you can understand why neither my fear that this will hurt you unbearably nor your love is enough to make me wish to continue this existence.

I asked Max to deliver this letter to you because I didn't want you to be alone when you received the news of my death. Although we've never really discussed them, I know you had your reasons for leaving the church, but don't take your anger or frustration out on Max. Max has been a good friend to both of us ever since your father left. Although it goes against his training as a priest and his personal beliefs, he seems to understand why I am doing this. And he has made me believe that God, as a merciful God, understands and will forgive me. If you let him, I think he can help you to accept this as well.

I'm not afraid of dying, Bobby. But I am afraid that you will never forgive me. Because some of this is my fault and as a good Catholic I feel the need to confess. I should have been a better mother when you were growing up and a better wife to your father. I know you've always blamed him for leaving us but the truth is Bobby, I forced him to go. Worse yet, I was relieved when he left. It was easier to deal with his anger than with that lost, hurt look that appeared in his eyes every time I did or said something that made him realize that I wasn't the girl he fell in love with anymore. I couldn't bear knowing that I was hurting him like that. Still, it should have been his choice; to stay or to go. I shouldn't have made it for him. In trying to deny that knowledge and because I was afraid of losing your love as well, I drove a wedge between you and him. I realize and hope you do too; that was wrong of me, Bobby.

But I think you should know, if you don't already, if I had the chance to erase my relationship with your father as if it had never happened, I wouldn't. Not just because it brought me you but because we were happy for a long while . I'm sorry that you didn't get to see more of our good times. If I could give you a single gift it would be to ensure at least a little of that kind of happiness for you. It pains me more than I can ever express that you haven't married. When you were younger, I thought it was because you were afraid that you might develop schizophrenia. However, recently I've come to believe that you avoid relationships because you're afraid of ending up as your father and I did. That's my fault Bobby; mine and your father's. We should have made you see that in spite of our bad times, our love was a good thing.

Even if it doesn't last forever; even if you end up getting your heart broken, I really want you to find someone you can love as I loved him, Bobby. I also hope that someday you will have a son or perhaps a daughter who will love you as unconditionally as you have loved me. I can't really take any credit for it, but you have turned into a fine and honorable man. You deserve to be loved. And I know that any child who has you as a father will be a truly lucky child. Though love is a risk son, it is the only risk that's always worth taking. Even now, when writing this letter is so hard, I don't regret for a moment, loving your father or you. As I am discovering, it's not the things you did that you are sorry for at the end but the things you didn't do. Don't let never having a family be one of your regrets, Bobby.

I think I've said all I have to say. The nurses will be by soon and if I don't want to be stopped, I have to do this quickly. Please believe that I have always loved you more than anyone or anything in my life and that will never change. My final wish is that with time, you will be able to remember me and find only happiness in those memories.

Your loving mother