Further Up & Further In

Flowers For Her Grave: Chapter 8: A Letter From Lucy

"Dear Susan,

"I haven't yet made up my mind whether I will actually give this to you. Likely I won't, though I feel as if I should. There are some things I need to say to you, you see, that I can never find the courage to tell you in person." 

A word flickered in Susan's mind. Valiant. 

"I won't make this about what used to be, because I know you hate it, and you'll only harden your heart to me if I try. I don't think you mean to, Susan, but you do. You won't believe like you used to, and I wonder now how much you believed back then. You're too stubborn, Susan. So am I. So are the boys. (Our parents are lucky indeed!)

"I only write this because I fear I will never say it. Truthfully, I think I will stuff it somewhere and hide it away for years and years, because I'm just not brave enough to face you. I used to feel like a lioness, but the truth is that I don't feel like it with you. I feel like a child, the way you talk down to me, and I feel useless. Especially after tonight. I'm trying frightfully hard not to be angry with you, Su. We both know I have an awful temper. But Edmund said you didn't mean it, and I know he's right. He usually is with these sorts of things. Perhaps I'm still upset over what you said, but I promise I'll forgive you. I know you're hurting. I'm hurting, too. Tonight was awful, but I truly believe that we will get past it."

Susan's stomach twisted as she realized that, though undated, this letter was written the night of their argument. The night, as fate would have it, before the accident. The night before they died. The tears poured down Susan's face so that she could hardly read, and she took care not to get the pages of the letter wet.

"What I really want to say is that I wish you would believe me. Not because I need you to, but because you are missing out on something incredible. It's not about the things you call games. It's about the very real faith I have found here. I don't know how you let yourself ignore it sometimes! There is so much strength in it. So much hope. Oh, and I know you hate my bible most of the time, but if you could only read the ending, I think you'd get it. It says. 'I am making everything new!' That always sounded so beautiful to me, like when spring comes after winter.

"This is God who is speaking. Our God. The God I think you know in your brain, but not in your heart. (I'm sorry. I know I'm not supposed to judge. But you feel so distant  that I just can't help it sometimes.) I just wish you understood it, and believed it like you used to. Oh, Susan, I just wish you would remember! It was dawn for us. Don't you know what it felt like? To think I have a Saviour who died for me is incredible, and then he rose again for me, too! He died for all of us, and rose for all of us, and I find so much strength in that. I think you would, too, if you would just let yourself believe it. I think you're missing a light in your life, and I pray daily that you find it. (I don't tell you I pray for you, but I do. My greatest fear is that you might ask me to stop.)

"That's what I want most for you. I think it's what you need. But if you can't believe, would you please stop telling me not to? Isn't it at all possible that I know something you don't? Isn't it at all possible that you are the one who is wrong? Why do you have to be so proud? If you can't remember, then maybe there's nothing I can do to make you, but I can stand up for myself and for my faith. Because it matters, even when you say it doesn't. It matters in spite of you.

"I talk to the boys about you sometimes. An awful lot, really. I can't help it. I used to talk to you about these things that terrified me, but I can't talk to you about yourself, because it always ends the same way. I hope you'll forgive me. I promise not everything we say is nasty, because mostly we're just sad. Not tonight, though. I told Peter and Edmund about our argument, and I think they were as mad as I was. (You really can't just say those things, Susan.) So instead I asked them what they might say to you if they were brave enough. They don't know I'm writing it down. 

"Edmund wanted to tell you that it hurts him that you don't believe, like a knife in his back. It hurts all of us, of course, but it's different for him. How can you really not remember? How can you not remember what God did for him? He also wants you to know that he loves you. He said he told you this, but he worried he didn't make it clear. You weren't listening, I think. Susan, you're our sister, for better or for worse, and when we're hurting, it's only because we see how much you're hurting. We love you. Really and truly and with all our hearts.

"Peter said that, too. He loves you, and he wishes you didn't hurt. He wants you to have hope again, and sometimes he doesn't know how to handle it. He's sorry he pushes you away sometimes, but he wishes you knew that he's not giving up on you. Nothing could make him do that. He wants you to believe, but until then, he'll take care of you. He always has protected us. And I really think he said that more for my sake, at first, just because he knew I was worried about you. But I also know that he meant what he said. You can count on Peter. He is always there for you, and for all of us, if we need him.

"That's what the boys say to me when you're not around. That's what they said tonight. I know we get angry at you sometimes, but we still do love you.

"I don't think I'll give you this. I couldn't bear to see the look on your face as you read it. I don't know if you'd be angry or not, but I think it would be too much. It doesn't matter though, because it has done me good just to write this. I hope I find the courage to tell you one day. But even if you never hear it, I want you to know I'm praying for you. I'm sorry, Susan, for what I said. I forgive you, too. And I love you dearly.

Your sister,

Lucy."

Susan shivered. There it was, in ink, what she wanted to hear most in the world: I forgive you. But the letter was so much more than that. She felt conviction, though she didn't know what for. She just knew she would do better. She knew she would listen like she hadn't before. She knew she would open her heart again. Because she was forgiven, and she felt it now. And she was loved. 

If that was the only thing she knew for sure, she was loved.