It's been six months since I left. Some days I find it really difficult to keep going on, to stay calm and think that everything is going to be okay. There are days that I even think if I did the right thing coming here: suddenly everything seem more complicated, more difficult to stand. Jonathan says I'm doing really well, and I would like to believe him. He thinks that in a few months I will be able to go back to Pittsburgh, since I am getting over my whiskey problems, as I call it. I really hate it here in New York...
I received a letter from David this morning. Boy, he is nervous about the wedding. He is still afraid that she will chicken out in the last minute or something.. You know how he is, right? In the letter said that he would do whatever it took for you to be able to be there that day. He misses you for real.. Jonathan told me that I'll get permission to go to David's wedding next month, but that I ought to be back that same evening, and Michelle has to go with me. She's one of the nurses here. She's been working here for fifty years or so, and will retire at the end of the year. She always says that when she retires we will celebrate with champagne. Boy, you should see the doctors' faces when she says these kind of things. Really funny woman, that Michelle.
Oh! The Doctor told me today that dad will come tomorrow to visit me again.. I'm sure he'll ask for money again.. He has been after the money you left us ever since you passed away, the bastard... I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't swear when I'm talking to you, I know you don't like cuss words, but dad always pisses me off. Anyways, he'll be here in the morning, so I should go to sleep now.
I love you, Mom.
