For thirty-six years, I have lived with something I could never bring myself to tell you.
I loved you before you loved me.
And because I was young and selfish and afraid, I made a terrible choice.
I separated you from Anna.
I lied to her.
I lied to you.
And then I spent the rest of my life trying to become worthy of the man I had taken away from her.
I had to stop reading.
My eyes filled with tears.
Anna remained silent.
I continued.
I thought that once we were married, the guilt would disappear.
It didn’t.
Instead, every year I loved you more, and every year I became more ashamed.
You were a wonderful husband.
You were a good father.
You were patient with me.
You made me laugh.
You held my hand when I was sick.
You stayed when life became difficult.
And I knew that the life we built together was real.
