(Transcribed from note written as Bella slept en route to Isle Esme)

13th August, 2006

Bella, my beloved:

I remember imagining you, in wedding white, on your father's arm as he gave you in marriage to the one who would be your husband. How I wished it could be me!

I remember the despair and desire I felt--despair that such a thing could never be and the fervent desire that somehow you would love me as I loved you.

And yet before me, I see the vision once again. Slowly, as must happen in dreams,you descend the stairs, moving to the beats of Wagner's march, on your father's arm.

But this time, the fragrance of a million flowers, carefully chosen -fills me with the same sweetness as your beloved scent, and the silent voices of the assembled marvel as one at your shy loveliness. Your beauty breaks my silent heart, even as your love restores it.

And this time, your father places your light, warm hand in mine.

I told you once that I wished I could dream, so I could dream of you.

But I could never have dreamed of this--that the loving, joyous tears in your eyes would be my tears, as well.

You are my miracle. My love, My soul. My very existence. My wife!

And I will love and cherish you today and all the days of eternity.

Your loving husband--