This morning, as I bid farewell to all, I found myself at Dot's for the last time. I tried to meet the old lady who recognized me every morning when I went in for breakfast but I could not find her, and I learned that she no longer works there. This made me strangely nostalgic and melancholy. It served as a poignant reminder of the inevitable changes that accompany goodbye and how it may go unnoticed, as much of an impact somebody has made in one's life.
I want you to know that I have made peace with my decision. I am free now, and I do not wish to have done anything differently as my time comes to an end. Regrets linger, of course. I regret not having the courage to face you, to confront the shame that cloaked my actions. But there is one last confession I must make - I was there that day at Union Station. I was there as you paced around, and walked away. And I saw you with the same happy, blissful heart that met yours when I first saw you all those years ago.
One of my mother's possessions I had kept with me after her passing was an entry in her diary in which she regretted not having been happy, and wishing I could be, for her sake. I am profoundly ashamed I could not be, but whatever glimpses of Heaven I experienced in the midst of this whole tempest, I experienced with and because of you. These moments, that now seem bittersweet in the harsh light of truth, are something not even you can ever take away from me.
I will forever be your Phantom. I will remain eternally yours,
