Did you not realize, my sweet, tormented friend, all those years ago when you took your own life, that the ripples of sadness would still be affecting others?
The daughters you left behind are now around your age. The age you were when you met your sudden demise. But you are not forgotten, how could you be? You are part of the family memories. The happy times when our children played together, as well as the sad times when you became ill.
Why couldn't you have clung on to life? Recovery was surely just around the corner?
When we first realized what you had done, we felt horrified, angry, guilty, despairing and shocked. One sensation after another, but above all, we missed you and the girls needed you so badly.
Your grandchildren will never know you. Are you aware of them? Are you happy now, where you are? I need to think so and my faith urges me to believe that you live on.
Your birthday is near again. I never seem to forget it! For a long time I put the flowers near your photo, on the piano. That need is long gone and the photo is somewhere, but I do think of you sometimes when I least expect to, like today. But your children are still affected by what you did.
If you were alive today, you would be old and I cannot picture you like that. Would we still be as close as we were before, or would we have drifted apart, my sweet, tormented friend?