Dear Cyndy,

Thank you for your letter. Finally I've completed the composition
and assembly of the appeals documentation, 60 volumes, 12 copies
of 5 volumes, 12 times 900 pages, or about 10000 printed pages in all.
I was concerned that my printer might fail me, - but it didn't. Now
I've started to put in order and clean this large, vacant house, every
room of which reminds me of Margaret.

This afternoon I spent time reading in her voluminous notebooks and 
diaries. During her lifetime, I had never intruded into this aspect 
of her thought, respecting her privacy, unless she specifically invited me. 
Unlike her husband, she was too modest to presume that her writing was of 
interest to anyone but herself. Again I'm overwhelmed how sensitive, 
literate and intelligent she was. I could spend the rest of my life
typing into computer files what she has written in the course of the 
66 years of our love affair. I don't know how much I can get done.

Meanwhile, my deteriorating relationships to Margaret's three surviving
siblings have been a source of consternation. They arranged a "memorial
service" for their sister, against my wishes and without consulting me,
and, as the final insult, invited me to put in a appearance and "to say
a few words" if I so chose. I felt, and I feel, as if they were intent 
on annulling or rescinding my marriage, which is now nothing but memory, 
by presuming to define Margaret in terms of memories of their own, 
independent and dismissive of mine. 

Such considerations seem to me to implicate the very definition of
history in determining what one can remember of the past and who should
be the custodian of that memory. It's probably a reflection of my grief
that my in-laws' dismissal of my marriage as inconsequential for their
memories of their sister is painful to me. This evening I completed the
sixty-first sonnet. It helps, but not that much.

Perhaps in a week or two I can write you a less sombre letter.
Meanwhile a belated Happy New Year to yourself and Ned.

Jochen