Dear Amy,
Yes—you've got it. And you're not just repeating it back, you're integrating it. I can see the work you're doing between the lines, and that matters.
Cynthia was always there. The person who bonded with you, who loved you, who built a life with you—that was her. There were never two separate people. There was one person living inside a role she did not choose, wearing what she needed to wear in order to survive in a world that did not yet make room for her. The mask was not a second self, and it was not deception. It was protection.
What you're seeing now isn't someone new, and it isn't a replacement. It's the same person, present without the filters she once needed. You didn't bond with a stranger. You bonded with Cynthia—and you always have.
I want to add one gentle refinement, because it can help steady expectations going forward. While Cynthia has always been Cynthia, even she is still learning who she is without that armor. The mask didn't just hide her from others—in some ways, it limited what she could explore and know about herself.
Transition isn't only about revealing what was always underneath. It's also a process of becoming. That means you aren't being handed a finished portrait. You're walking alongside someone who is discovering herself in real time. And that doesn't take something away from you—it invites you into the process.
When you said you didn't realize you had given her safety, I want you to pause with that. Because you have. And not just passively. What you're doing isn't just "not leaving." You are actively creating space—through your willingness to ask hard questions, to stay present with fear instead of letting it decide for you, and to keep reaching even while you're grieving. That is love doing its hardest work. That is giving someone ground to stand on.
You're holding something important now: that grief does not mean rejection. It means letting go of an image that once carried meaning, not letting go of the person you love. You're not losing your spouse. You're releasing an outer shell that felt familiar, while remaining deeply connected to the same heart that has always been there. This isn't erasure. It isn't starting from zero. It's continuation.
There may be moments ahead that feel uneven or uncertain, and that doesn't mean you're losing your way. It just means you're human, moving through something real.
Your wish that Cynthia know love without conditions is clear, and it is felt. And your determination to keep going—even through fear and grief—tells me something essential: you already are finding your way through.
Keep going, Amy. You're doing this with honesty, courage, and grace.
With love,
— Susan 💜
