I tried. I tried so hard for you. I want you to know that, dear. I tried to be a good wife. Seen and not heard. Quiet and patient and always, always on your side.
I still want to be on your side, even in death I do. But....
But you make it so hard for me. A good wife loves her husband, despite all his failings. And I do, I do love you. But I look at you and sometimes wonder what happened to the man I married. If he's been destroyed by this other you. Or if he never existed and the you I see now, the you that's so power-hungry, is the you that's always been there.
It's not right, I shouldn't doubt you. I don't want to doubt you. I'm probably even disappointing you in this, the last you'll ever hear from me, but I can't rest easy without telling you.
I remember a picnic we had once when you courted me. Out in the park one summer day. Sitting in the sunlight on a red and white checked blanket, a basket full of food I'd made sitting between us. And you held my hand and kissed me on the cheek and it was ideal. Sweet and beautiful and ideal. You always seemed so perfect to me. That's why I married you. Because you were my ideal, and I wanted to be yours. I tried so hard to be yours.
And now, now when I see some of the things you do, I worry that maybe my ideal was an illusion. A beautiful dream and nothing more. A wonderful dream, yes. A dream that I'd gladly live over and over again and never give up because I do love you, Richard. I can't stress that enough. I do love you. But you worry me.
What you're doing worries me. What you've done worries me. A good wife should support her husband in his decisions but this time I can't. I'm sorry, but I can't. I just can't support you in this. Not in how this will end. And if that makes me horrible so be it.
It makes me a terrible wife, I know. But even in your anger at me, please, just remember that I love you. That's all I ask. And please, if you love me, don't take this madness any further. I know I can't change your mind. But I can ask.
All I can do is ask and try to be a good wife to you. Even in death.