If you are reading this, then I am gone, and you have just discovered that I did not leave you the house.
I imagine some people in that room are waiting for you to be angry. Perhaps some part of you is angry. That is all right. We are rarely only one thing at a time.
I want you to know that I was never blind.
I knew, from the beginning, that you married me partly because you were afraid and desperate. I knew you saw safety in my home before you saw me. I knew people would laugh, judge, pity me, and call me a foolish old woman.
But Daniel, I was not foolish.
I was lonely.
And you were lost.
Those are different things.
At first, I think you wanted my house.
Then you wanted my money.
Then perhaps you wanted the life you thought those things could buy.
