With the warm sun coming though my bedroom window and the sweet sounds of Patricia Kaas filtering through crowing Seagulls I finally felt a bit of peace. Letting my mind wander as I shifted through old notes, drawings, and letters, was the first indication that perhaps I had finally let go of any REAL hope. The only thing to do now is to call on God to make my Great Love’s life so happy and contented that there may be no place for me even in his memory.

In losing him I lost part of my life. And as I fold t-shirts and place them in my dresser it is as though I am tucking away part of me–part of my “muchness” –I realize that the moment he parted from me I was alone in the world. And though I have buried any actual hope; I still will wait until the day he is married, for I will not lose the smallest of one of those unexpected chances fate sometimes holds in store for us. After all, I might be still truly forgiven–he may still desire to know me as I am. It still may be that all his searching for someone to marry is thwarted by memories of better times…ah, but…but everything appears possible to the condemned woman, to whom a miracle becomes an everyday occurrence when it is a question of saving her life.

I shall therefore wait until the very last moment, and when my fate is sealed, and my misery beyond all hope and remedy…I shall write a very gloomy and resolute letter. The final chapter of my Great Love.