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[TRANSCRIPT]
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"February 2nd, 1974. The winters are getting harder and harder. It isn’t so much that the storms are worse, but that there is so much more unpredictability to them. I know the weather patterns of my home like I know my own name, but I hadn’t fully appreciated just how reliant I’d become on the Farmer’s Almanac.
There is also the matter of my age. I feel the cold so much more now, and long even more for the warm comfort of my dear Harry.
Oh, Harry, what has happened to us? There are days when I curse your name for leaving me when you did, for condemning me to this life alone. For I was alone even before this purgatory I’m in now. Now, I can pretend that our girls are out there still, living off the land just as we taught them, and unable to contact me. I can imagine that they are happy. But when you died, I knew you were gone forever and that I would forever be alone in the world from then on. What is my life without you?
On days in which my head is clearer, I find myself thanking God that you went when you did. I can be selfish at times, and I want you with me more than anything, but I am glad that you do not have to live with this uncertainty and fear.
I’m tired, Harry. I want to see you again, my love.”
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I don’t know—I don’t know why I read that one aloud. There’s nothing in it that—
I’m so sorry, Leann.
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