The Letter

Sharon...
If you're reading this, either I'm no longer here, or Provenza is lining up for a can of whoop-ass. I hope it's the latter, because the thought of not being able to tell you what I need to tell you in person is tearing my heart to pieces.

In case it's not the latter...
Thank you. Thank you for showing me that it's never too late to be the man I always wanted to be.
Thank you for finally giving in to my incessant demands for your attention.
Thank you for healing a heart I thought was too broken to ever truly love again.
Saying that sounds like I have just discovered that I love you, but that's not true. When I look back I realise I've loved you for so long that I can't pinpoint the exact time.
The one thing I should have said to you long before I needed to write it... I love you. And now I face the possibilty that I may never get to tell you in person.
When I think about not making it through this surgery, I think about my children and what I would still like to make up to them. I think about leaving Louie alone, but I know he's in safe hands.
But most of all, I think about not being able to look into your eyes. I think about not being able to hear your voice. I think about not being able to hold you close to me just to feel your heart beating.
I think about not ever having the chance to say "I love you Sharon." Going into surgery, my heart is broken by those things I've left unsaid or undone.
If God is on my side, I'll see you in recovery. If he's not, please go forward knowing that I love you so much that at times I can't breathe, and that I will carry that love with me wherever I find myself after this life, and I'll be waiting for you.

Yours always & forever Andy