The last three letters. Bound by red twine. They say:

Brother,
It has been one year since you’ve gone, and father still hurts for you. I see it in his eyes.
You cannot see his pain, but I do, and I feel it also. His grief suffocates me, and it is killing him.
I do not know how to help.
When will you return? He loves you so much and you love him also.
And I love you, but I fear it is not what it used to be.

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Brother,
You have not shown your face for two years. I wonder if you look like father in his youth. I wonder if you will look like him with time. He has changed as I’m sure you have. He no longer talks about you, but I know he still thinks of you.
From when he rises to when he sleeps.
I’m sure he dreams of you also.
When you close your eyes what do you dream of? When you are alone what do you think of?

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Brother,
You no longer plague father. I have rid you from myself as well. You live and we mourned you.
I see now and I have always seen, and I have always told you so, but you refused to listen, and you refused to hear.
And with your pride, you refused to stay and with your pride, you left.
I do not wish ill on you. I love you. But my memory of you has changed.
Yet, though I see you differently, the world remains the same.
I only hope you will open your eyes.