Letter to MigginsThe most important thing I want you to know is I did not leave because I do not love you. I feel as though I have no right to claim I love you when I am failing you so greatly but still I do. I do claim it; I am consumed with it.
I would not choose it lightly, sweetheart. But sometimes our choices seem so narrow, so straitened, that we feel like we have no choice at all.
I will not make excuses to you. Your mother believes I am worthless because love in itself is not enough to be worthwhile, and what I had to offer is not worth more to her than what is not.
But I have poetry. Almost nothing in this life hurts more than that being worth nothing at all. In romances, having the poetic heart is enough in itself but in life it is barely paid even a smile.
I will now enter purgatory where the sins I have committed will be punished by the torture of hearing your laugh and seeing your smile but only in my fleeting memories. I will not hold you or whisper that you are clever and strong and beautiful and how much I adore you and hope for you.
I am sorry I could not be better. It is not that I didn't want to be or wouldn't try. I am made only of what I'm made of. There is nothing else but this unsatisfying restless void.
I will do what I can to make it worth being my child. That is all I can promise. That, and of course that I will love you with every breath I have.