I looked back at the letters. They were her final gift to us, her way of saying goodbye and perhaps, seeking forgiveness. I felt a pang of guilt, a profound sadness for not being able to protect her from whatever demons she had faced. But there was also a glimmer of understanding. She had left these things for me to find because she wanted me to know the truth, to understand that her choice was not a reflection of our love for her, but rather her own internal struggle.