Dear one,
The lines on my face are a historical map of a 50-year life of which I am tremendously proud, comprised of both unspeakable joy and unbearable pain. I am a stronger, more compassionate man because of every person who stood silently watching me struggle over the years, awaiting my inevitable failure. I thrive because I chose to listen to my own voice when their voices told me I was a second-class citizen, unworthy of love.
There’s a saying that goes, “A ship in harbor is safe, but that is not what ships are built for.”
I don’t know about you, but I was built to rock the boat. We are all destined for the same ending, but I’m going to live the hell out of this life before I go.
Never forget that I love you, and that excludes no one.
Love,
