Letters of Old

A Letter to Christian

City of --, Country of --.
-th of September, Year 20--.

My friend,

What does the universe need for me to have a person whom I can be in comfortably silent with?

I didn't know if Signor told you about this, but for a week now I'm at home in the tropics. Last tuesday, my sister made an international call and bid me to come home. It's my pa, he has fallen gravely ill, he can't talk nor eat a single bite, he is weaker each following day, now he is bedridden; everyone is expecting for the end to come soon, even the doctor. Everyone, everyone has taken it to be natural and accepted it, but I do not. I wish I could have begged the abbess to let Neri and Gio come with me.

I understand it should be just the way it is, but every memory, the daughter in me is screaming in anger and helplessness. I know I have no right to talk back to them on how they should take this situation, I know we're different, I know I've been away and they have been here, I know I'm sad and guilted, I know. But that doesn't make it okay for them to act as if the one laying on the matress is not our father, he is not a lump of meat discarded after being spoilt. They act so cold and distant. They'd come to the room to clean and try to feed him, the doctor too would sometimes talk to him, but none would try and just be with him- like I do. He is just staring in the ceiling, staring, sometimes with labored breathing, sometimes with his pulse so faint, but most of the times he's just staring and I'd stare with him. Maybe a day will come when I'll see what he sees, think what he thinks and understand how he can forgive me for being away. I know he does, I know it in his breath, in the way he blinks, in his sleep. I know he has not even a bit of resentment. If I'd keep staring, maybe one day I'll be able to live the days he has lived, and see through the regrets and marvels of his days.

Christian, I will be strong just as I have always been. Talk to me, write to me, grieve with me, and maybe there will come a time when I can meet them all and say everything I just wrote, and be strong, that is it- just be strong.

I can't write yet to Neri, Gio, and Liz, I still wait for the worst to come, that way it would come to them in one blow, and not in succession of small pinches of reality. If only the world can do so with me now. Only now, I can have genuine comforts on letters- such as this. I do not know yet when I'll write to you next, but I'm waiting for your letter. Come and comfort me with your words, I couldn't care if it's less than how you can in your actual presence, but if it comes from you- I know it would do. There is far too much to say to an esteemed acquaintance than to a friend that has been with you in a lifetime (she's referring to Neri).

Chrisitian; is it possible to fit yourself in a letter and send it to me? Is it possible to extend summer all year long, is it too much to ask for me?

Ps.
If this would go on far too long, then, I'll probably be staying here for good, for my ma. The abbess might not expect me for year or two, or not at all. It is far too good to be true for the scholarship to remain open exclusively for me. I shouldn't expect too much charity from this universe.

With all my love and sorrow,
come comfort me,
Your Lois