Saturday, October 3rd, 1801

My Dearest, Philip,

                                      This morning the letter you had written for me arrived. The envelope was crisp and the writing undisturbed. No one had opened it since it had been written. Joseph handed me the letter with a shaking hand, he recognised the hand before I even had a chance to glance at it. He left me in the living room letter in hand, staring blankly at the penmanship, the last thing I will ever receive from you. I did not want to open the letter.

After several moments, I undid the envelope and pulled out the letter, my hands were shaking and it felt like everything inside of me was going to collapse. I could not breathe, I could not speak. I held in my hands the last letter you had ever written. One of the last things you had ever touched. I did not want to read the letter, I did not want to bring myself to read it, to read the last thoughts you had to me before you went to that duel, but I new I should.

You wrote that letter with the knowledge that you were going to live. That you were going to have the future you deserved and worked towards, but fate had other plans. I read through your letter several times over. Ran my fingers over the words, as though they were you, I suppose they are, the words will always be a part of you. You sound so happy in those words, so adamant that you were going to make it, that neither of you were going to fire. Little did you know.

When I read that letter and the reality of it finally sunk in, I felt numb. It was as though every emotion I had felt had just gone like it never existed. Then they came flooding back, like a wave by the ocean. Hitting me over and over again and there was no stopping it. I held the letter to my chest and sobbed until I could cry no more.

It has been only a few weeks since you died, Philip, but it feels like I heard the news only yesterday.

I know you will never read this letter, I know you will never see this, but I want you to know that you will always be my one true love. Since we were children, until the end of time. I will always love you, Philip Hamilton.

Love Always,

Theodosia Burr Alston.

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Notes;

When this document was analyzed, we found a small drawing at the bottom, right-hand corner of the page. We believed this drawing was likely to be a heart, but due to the passing time, this is speculation. This letter also contained a substantial amount of water damage, we believe this to be from Burr crying whilst she wrote the letter, showing her emotion for the death of Hamilton.