The Last Letter
You are sitting back in your chair, chin raised, eyes closed, trying - desperately - to get comfortable. But the discomfort is inside. Pain - like an unwelcome squatter - has set up camp in your chest, your back, your legs. You tell me your story. My heart breaks - for the bodies betrayal, for all that could have been, for all that you are. But you are not bitter, not angry at fate, only sad. Sad for too little time, and concerned for your boys. Will they be okay? Will they recover? I tell you not to worry, to trust in the strength God has given them. They ask to visit, but you say "don't concern yourself." I tell you to let them in. The cure for pain is in the pain, says Rumi. You ask if I will read to you. From the Bible, you say. ...