These are fragments of a letter:
There are happy letters because they are written and received. And there are other letters that are unwritten, unsent, unreceived...
My letter is one of those.
I always talked to my son mentally, even after he passed away. He was always my interrogation and support. Both at age 5 and at 35. Perhaps today and now it's time to talk about what happened last year. What would I tell my son about? ... If I could, I would not write a letter (why so many words?), but just two sentences. "You know, son, it turns out you were a better judge of people and life than I was. And I'm proud of you, my good, dear one."
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