the sick person while no one noticed the caregiver slowly disappearing.
He had watched Patricia disappear.
And one night, he came home and wrote me that letter.
He wrote:
I know you. You will keep telling people you are fine until long after you are not. You will refuse help until help is no longer enough.
Then came the sentence I needed most.
There is no version of loving me that requires you to stop loving yourself.
He wrote that if the day came when someone else could care for
