Envelope: For Heinz Text:

London, July 11, 1940

My dear Heinz

When these lines are going to be read by you, l am not going to be alive anymore and these are very initimate words of farewell which I am going to send to you in case I do not survive the operation [ED: Mom thinks gall bladder.]. Now that this is going to be interdicted to see you again I at least want to be in my thoughts and in a written manner stay in touch with you. It IS always my sense and purpose to have you benefit from an education which at one time it could have easily afforded (?) but this wish which completely absorbed me has also been completely interdicted but I still have the hope that with your own strength you will be able to form a future even if the path is not as level at might have been in previous times. To find and to walk the suitable path becomes even harder for us as the whole world is looks uncomprehendingly at the transformations that are taking place in the economy. . . treating ego-centricly (?). however, I have the hope.. . principles that you have learned (from Someplace?) both ethics and morals. What makes me most sad is the idea of leaving Mother alone at least until she can be reunited with you. And as far as you are concerned I can only express the wish that you can be a good son for her, but that lies in your nature. With a last greeting, I am your loving Father whom I hope you will keep in good memory.