Have you seen my father? I know he is living on the earth somewhere, but I have not been in his presence for hundreds of years. I was last with him on the day we bathed my mother in darkness and laid her to rest. I gave her that. In the last days, beside her deathbed, I would not kiss her, but my father would have. He, unable to look at her in those last days, averted his eyes toward the sky, cocked his head like a crow, turned his back to us, and flew. Though I have not set eyes on him since, I often feel that familiar taught tug of tough sinew connecting our hearts and minds. One day our paths will cross again, I have no doubt.
In the days of my childhood my father was an unhappy man. Having lived through multiple wars and witnessing many of his comrades die in extreme states of pain and even ecstasy, he desired an altogether novel experience. His new life was seeded in a distant place on the earth, where he established an empire and set up high officials who carried out his every whim. Dashing and charismatic, he gradually won the adoration of even his most skeptical subjects, who were later expelled from their common land and left with no means to feed themselves. But it was too late. He came to possess great jewels and drove a team of horses. Extremely rich and powerful, he was crowned king, and I lived in his kingdom as his princess, and received his kisses joyfully. Opulence flowed before me, and I deserved it. I believed that I did.
My father's story will continue, but on another day. First I will share with you a letter, written to my beloved mother long after she died. I wrote her many letters, some long and some short, some before and some after her death. Some spoke of memories, some of present experiences, mundane life, and some full of only pure emotion.
This is one such letter, and the first that I will share with you.
Dearest Mother,
There are very few people in my orbit at any given time, and some of them I've never met
I am much attached to Blue. Heavy slate-blue skies crawl slowly in
that gloriously elusive place between rain and snow that we call sleet
here in Melancholy County
In other luminously alive days I find
myself
unexpectedly longing for gray dark
momentary flickers of fear.
Mild shockwaves of trepidation.
If I never reach enlightenment
it won't be from disbelief
separation from my love will be the cause
my everything
my king Blue
Lovingly,
your daughter