Did you read love letter of Frida and Diego Rivera

The remarkable couple, who were born 21 years apart, was perhaps the first coupling in their family or in the city. The painter Frida Kahlo (6 July 1907–13 July 1954) had affairs with her instructor Diego Rivera (8 Dec 1886–24 Nov 1957). He who was 21 years her senior and divorced.

They do, nevertheless, look for an endless supply of love that is bound to one another. Ebony, cunning, and unafraid of their partnership, they continued to enthusiastically explore life together.

Read Rivera one of Kahlo’s letters talking about the gangrene infection on her leg. This letter was written before her leg being amputated during surgery. Kahlo communicated her love, rage, worry, and hope for her souls.

Love letter of Frida to Diego Rivera

Mexico, 1953

My dear Mr. Diego,
I’m writing this letter from a hospital room before I am admitted into the operating theatre. They want me to hurry, but I am determined to finish writing first, as I don’t want to leave anything unfinished. Especially now that I know what they are up to. They want to hurt my pride by cutting a leg off. When they told me it would be necessary to amputate, the news didn’t affect me the way everybody expected. No, I was already a maimed woman when I lost you, again, for the umpteenth time maybe, and still, I survived.

I am not afraid of pain and you know it. It is almost inherent to my being, although I confess that I suffered, and a great deal, when you cheated on me, every time you did it, not just with my sister but with so many other women. How did they let themselves be fooled by you? You believe I was furious about Cristina, but today I confess that it wasn’t because of her. It was because of me and you.

First of all because of me, since I’ve never been able to understand what you looked and look for, what they give you that I couldn’t. Let’s not fool ourselves, Diego, I gave you everything that is humanly possible to offer, and we both know that. But still, how the hell do you manage to seduce so many women when you’re such an ugly son of a bitch?

The reason why I’m writing is not to accuse you of anything more than we’ve already accused each other of in this and however many more bloody lives. It’s because I’m having a leg cut off (damned thing, it got what it wanted in the end). I told you I’ve counted myself as incomplete for a long time, but why the fuck does everybody else need to know about it too? Now my fragmentation will be obvious to everyone to see, for you to see… That’s why I’m telling you before you hear it on the grapevine.

Forgive my not going to your house to say this in person, but given the circumstances and my condition, I’m not allowed to leave the room, not even to use the bathroom. It’s not my intention to make you or anyone else feels pity, and I don’t want you to feel guilty. I’m writing to let you know I’m releasing you, I’m amputating you.

Be happy and never seek me again. I don’t want to hear from you, I don’t want you to hear from me. If there is anything I’d enjoy before I die, it’d be not having to see your fucking horrible bastard face wandering around my garden.

That is all, I can now go to be chopped up in peace.

Goodbye from somebody who is crazy and vehemently in love with you,

Your Frida.