I said I wanted to start at the end.

Me: I have a last request. I want you to write me a farewell letter for me to keep and treasure, (sob) as my mother never did.

A simple request, but as usual, T wanted to make a meal of it.

T: What do you think it would say?
Me: I don’t want to tell you what to write.
T: That’s not what I asked. What do you expect?
Me: That I’m a fine man and that you have every confidence in me and that you wish me well.
T: And if I refused to write it, or forgot to write it, what then?
Me: I would be disappointed and I would doubt my heart.
T: Doubt your heart?
Me: My heart would be proved wrong, and I would wonder how reliable it was. Hmmm… The mildness of that answer surprised me. I was expecting something much stronger, like: “I would be crushed and I would never love again.”
T: And that answer would have been wrong. I make no promises about such a letter. We’ll see how I feel when the time comes.