Did I lie?

Dear Rex,

I feel like I lied to you when I told you to go, that I would be all right.
I told you it would be okay, that I will manage. Remember, I said that ?
I added, too, that of course I will manage; it's what I do.

Did you believe me?
I hope so, but I wonder. I saw the look, but I know that you knew you would have to take my word for it.
And so you did.

I told you there's always Tammy. You know Tam -- and David -- will not see us homeless. Not if they can help it. They learned early the difference a roof can make overhead.
And there's Rita, always magnanimous when it comes to helping out.

Not what either of us would want for us (me and Tracy), but then, it stopped being a choice what we would want when you took that last bad turn.

The only choice for any of us was to make the best of a bad situation, and to let you go away from us.
Away from pain. Away from hypoxia and pain and anxiety.
We had to let go, and so did you..

I didn't want you to worry about us then, and I don't want you to worry now -- if you even can. I think somehow there's a worry dampener in the life after life.

But, oh, how I wish you were here to talk over my options with! You didn't understand how things worked, but talking things over with you has always been able to help me clarify things. Things to do, places to call, ways to phrase things, questions to ask.

I'm all at sea here.
I'm floundering.
I need your naive sanity.

But, I'll figure it out.
I will manage.
It's what I do.