Dear Halina,
If you are reading this, it means I have left this world, and you have probably already learned that my sons inherited everything I officially owned.
You may be hurt. You may feel that I forgot you. If so, forgive me for allowing you to believe that, even for a single day.
I did not forget you.
I stopped reading.
Tears blurred the words. For seven years, I had imagined that my father-in-law saw me as little more than a pair of hands that happened to be available. I had never expected him to write something like this.
I wiped my face and continued.
I watched you leave your work. I watched you put your own dreams away. I watched you sit beside me at night when even my own sons could not bear to remain in the room.
I heard you crying in the kitchen when you thought I was asleep.
