Dear Emily,
I never actually thought I'd be dying. A couple hundred years of immortality will do that to a person, I guess. I was seventeen for… oh, around 200 years, and now I'm almost ninety. It seems very odd.
It's funny how I lived for this long, and it took me this long to get this whole wisdom bit down. I suppose you have to get a certain amount of life experience for or something, right? And, of course, I expect you have to fall in love first.
Kaylie's daughter Aimee brought flowers into the hospital room. You know I'm not a great flower person, but these are lilies. They remind me of our wedding. Aimee's a smart girl. She somehow knew that our wedding was the best memory of my life. I could never wish for a better memory to be thinking of when I leave.
This letter is only for you, Emmie. I'm writing others for Sam and Derek, and the grandkids. But you're my wife, and the woman I love, and before I die, there are a few things I want only you to know.
The last year of my being seventeen, and the first year I met you, we watched a fireworks show for the Fourth of July, and I told you I was afraid of drinking from the spring. I was afraid that my life would be short, and I wouldn't be able to enjoy it. I had never been more wrong in my life. And you know how long my life has been.
I want you to know that every second of every day of my life have been the best I've ever had. I don't know how I could have even considered choosing immortality over you, Emily. It's crazy to even think about.
I want you to know that I've loved you more than I can possibly convey in a letter, and I still do. And after I'm gone, I still will.
I hope you're not going to be sad about what's happing. It's what's meant to happen, and we've had so many good days together than it more than makes up for whatever time this "death" is going to separate us for. I'll see you soon, don't worry.
I love you forever and ever Emily.
Love (and unlike us, the word never gets old),
Jesse.