Subject: Delivery Status Notification (Failure)
From: "Mail Delivery Subsystem" <[email-masked]>
To: <[email-masked]>
Date: Wed, 08 Jul 2015 11:19:24 +0000

Delivery to the following recipient failed permanently:

     [email-masked]

Technical details of permanent failure: 
Google tried to deliver your message, but it was rejected by the server for the recipient domain gmail.com by gmail-smtp-in.l.google.com. [173.194.206.26].

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----- Original message -----

Subject: Re: Beau
From: Hunter Biden <[email-masked]>
Date: Wed, 8 Jul 2015 07:19:22 -0400
Cc: Hallie Biden <[email-masked]>, Hunter Biden <[email-masked]>,
 Ashley Biden <[email-masked]>,
 Jill Tracy <[email-masked]>,
 Owens Valerie Biden <[email-masked]>,
 Missy Owens <[email-masked]>,
 Casey Owens <[email-masked]>,
 Cuffe Owens <[email-masked]>,
 "[email-masked]" <[email-masked]>
To: "Alexander S. Mackler" <[email-masked]>

Beautiful Alex. He was so very proud of you.

RHB
202.333.1880

> On Jul 8, 2015, at 12:14 AM, Alexander S. Mackler <[email-masked]> wrote:
> 
> To Hallie, Hunter, Ashley, and the entire inimitable, expansive Biden clan:
> 
>  
> 
> It feels odd saying this to the family that suffered the loss, but these last few weeks have been a struggle. The gap that Beau left in daily life presents at unpredictable times. That was never more apparent than on Father’s Day, because we talked so often about fatherhood. And because he’s the only man I ever met to whom I can pay my highest possible compliment: that his kindness, dignity, and beautiful soul reminded me of my dad.
> 
>  
> 
> There is no way, even a month later, to add to all the eulogies, articles, letters, and tributes. No more eloquence than Ashley and Hunter displayed. Selfishly, though, I needed to do something. So I sat down on Father’s Day, and periodically thereafter, to do the only thing that's ever brought comfort: writing. If you’ll indulge the rambling, and the length, as part of one mourner’s grieving process…
> 
>  
> 
> •••
> 
>  
> 
> Almost 20 years ago, my dad told us he was sick. And in a child’s flailing attempt to make sense of the world, I thought it was a sign that some folks just figured life out too quickly. Because this never happened to bad people.  The people dealt these sentences were so good at everything they did; combining remarkable personal character with a Midas professional touch. Whatever there is to realize in life, I thought, these unlucky few must have maxed out early and the Lord decided it was time. They made it look so easy. People who had so much life in their years, it seemed they didn't need as many years in their life to achieve excellence.
> 
>  
> 
> That thought process was the rationalization of a lost kid, a logic that eventually ceded to the acceptance of an unfair world.  Since then, I’d forgotten that feeling.  Rudderless. Consumed by grief and sadness.

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