Dear Robert,

Thanks for the suggestion that I start including my letters in the blog. You're right on the money, though. Letter writing has always been my forte.

Leon called again this evening. I really need to write to her, and soon. She called tonight to let me know that she's sure I would have called and apologized for being such a bitch last month, except she hasn't been home. Yeah, sugah, that's what it is. You haven't been home for me to call and apologize. I told her the truth, once again. And guess what? She wasn't interested in my opinion this time, either. You know I've told you time and time again that that's alright with me. It really is, and I seldom get annoyed when she totally ignores what I'm saying. Do you remember back when we were getting to know each other well for the first time? I told you that my guru said that the truth never hurt anybody, but it might make them mad? That's Leon. But the truth isn't going to hurt her because she's not going to hear it. I told her twice that I wrote about our argument in my blog. Want to bet on whether she comes here to read what I had to say? No, I wouldn't take that bet either.

I will try to be generous in my future dealings with her, but I'm not interested in giving it very much energy. She'll form her own conclusions about what has transpired and lay the blame for the demise of our relationship in my lap. I really am okay with that.

I'm so looking forward to seeing you next week. I told Jim that I would be able to spend a day or so with you on my way up to Calgary, and also a day or so on my way back, unless of course you're dead, and then I'll be able to do a quick memorial service. He acted a little shocked that I would be so brutally honest about the possibility of your death, but I told him that I was relying mostly on your assessment of your possibilities. I think I told you one time that I thought the way to avoid dying was to be totally alive in the moment. If one could, then at the moment of death there would be a glorious exchange of energy with the universe. I owe you much of my soul, so I felt the least I could do would be to see you and bid you face this possibility with strength and awe. Like the Hollywood Indians used to scream on their way t o battle, "It is a good day to die.!"

I don't see you dying on that table, though. I have a vision of you on the other side of this operation. Be bold. It's going to be alright.

All my love and affection,

Raymond Ruth