Years had passed
since the day on which I had found your lifeless body in your bed.
A smile on your
face, the gentle rays of the sun illuminating the room, a gentle
breeze that moved the curtains of the windows.
You seemed…
content.
I was at first
broken. A small child with no mother, a lot of responsibilities that
I now had to carry on my own. Debt, joblessness, depression.
I found some solace
in music and made it my passion and my sole purpose for the following
months, neglecting our child and my responsibilities. I had some
savings that I made use of during that time.
When I played the
piano you felt alive again. I escaped into a world where you were
still alive, ill, but alive. I could tell you about my worries, about
my fears, about how our child was growing up, how the house we had
acquired was slowly turning into a home thanks to your love for
detail and good taste.
During the piano
sessions, I was free.
But then came the
crash…
The savings, which I
knew could not last forever, did indeed run out.
Social services
deemed me unfit for parenting and took our child away.
My family decided
that I was too much of a burden to take care of and stopped writing
to me and inviting me to their lavish celebrations.
I was alone, broke
and alone.
Looking back I doubt
I would be where I am today were it not for the pit I dug myself
into. Maybe, deep down, I knew that the only way for me to rise was
to burn everything to the ground and build it back up from scratch.
It took me months to
find a job and a few years to regain custody over my child, I was
lucky though, since to this day they have no memory of us ever being
apart.
The passion and
despair I felt back in that time fueled a torrent of emotions that
helped me produce what, to this day, is considered one of the best,
if not my best work.
I have gathered the
courage to write what I hope will be the first of many letters. I
know it has been a long time since we spoke… I would not be
surprised if you hated me a bit for having taken so long, but I
needed the loneliness, I needed the despair, the depression, the
depths of the pit to claw myself out of.
Alex is growing up
to be a fine child. I take them for long walks in nature and tell
them about the different trees, I tried getting them into music, but
it seems that the musical part of us is dying with me. Who would have
guessed though, right? Child of two musicians refuses to partake in
their parents hobby. I guess that is how children are, they have to
find their own way after all.
I am doing fine now,
I know that there are other ways I can get in touch with you,
goodness knows I needed this, but was partly afraid, partly too numb
to realize.
I hope this letter
finds you well.
I promise I will be
sending you one of these every month to keep you updated on how Alex
and I are doing.
Yes, I promise I am
fine, you do not have to worry now, I am capable of taking care of
everything. Except decorating the house… that is something only you
could do well… Alex does have your good taste though, so I let them
buy decorations every once in a while to give the house a more homely
feel to it.
My studio is sacred
though, I need the chaos to reign absolutely supreme in there!
I have to go now,
Alex is ready to go out bird-watching and is beckoning me to hurry up.
I loved you, I still
do, and I forever will.
Yours only,
...
