To My Dead Lover,
I’m not even sure if I should be writing this, we never did get a chance to truly love each other. But surely I get to love you, pieces of you, more and more through the stories Eleanor and Alicia tell, and even then, I feel farther away from you than ever.
I cry all September long, even on my birthday. And it feels as though my heart continues to be punctured by your knife; the knife hardened by my grief and sorrow, the knife that had punctured my heart the day that you died.
I try to stay strong for you sister, Alicia, yet every time I look into her warm brown eyes, I am reminded of you and your copper against sage eyes that were beautiful galaxies, yet to be discovered or named, nor will they ever be.
I aspire to be next to you in the heavens, holding your hand and staring out at the stars. But I am stuck in this earthly mud, consoling your sister, my feelings locked away. I am stuck adrift in the thick of darkness, trying desperately to blow away the smoke that has engulfed me, but instead of clearing away the darkness, it floats heavy in my lungs – paining me with every breath.
Life had beaten me down before I met you, and it continues to beat me down after you left me. I am black and blue with pain and suffering, and nothing can stop more shadows from appearing on my skin every morning. Memories yellow the bruises but pain my mind. The memories bring back the tears attempting the fill the void you created in my heart. It initiates the vicious cycle of agony that torturously wracks my brain as the days stumble on.
Grief is my merciless master whom dictates my every movement but hides behind the mask that is my smile, who attempts to stay strong for those around me.
I yearn to grow around the absence you have caused in my heart, grow from a bereaved widow to a strong and powerful women. I long to be able to stand tall and confident without tears stinging the whites of my eyes. My master ebbs and flows, but the pain remains as a constant reminder of you. A constant reminder of how God harrowingly stole your life, and therefore my heart.
Each night sadness envelops me like a blanket whilst my brain beats on like a monster. It afflicts my senses as I desperately try to hold on to the memories of our short time together; like that time in Central Park, where we sat by the duck pond surrounded by the lush trees while you whispered sweet songs in my ear. The rain races down my window while tears race down my face, while all I wish is for the rain to wash away the pain.
The anniversary of your death is in a few days. And all I can think about is you and your copper against sage eyes staring down at me from the heavens. I wish you could see the memorial that stands at the base of the tower which you perished in. You would have loved to see it. You would have begged me to come to the memorial site and place thousands of flowers on the names of those who died, but instead, I trudge to the memorial clutching Alicia’s hand thinking about how terrible it is to have loved someone who has been touched by death.
On September 11, 2001, two airplanes flew into the World Trade Centre killing 2,977 people and inflicting innumerable amounts of pain on the families of those who perished, all while instilling fear upon the rest of the world. This letter stands as my personal tribute to those who were impacted by this agonizing attack on innocent people. I urge you all to remember all that you have and to take a moment to remember and honor those who lost their lives on
September 11, 2001.
Photo: http://content.time.com/time/arts/article/0,8599,2092287,00.html
Dear Victoria,
I cannot begin to relay to you the extent to which this piece influenced me-your writing dominated my thoughts for the majority of yesterday, leading me to question the world we live in today. Why must there always be death? Why is it that death afflicts those of the living, seemingly more heavily than it does than on those who had been victims of death? While this piece caused turmoil within my mind, it also gave me the opportunity to see the beauty within the love one may have for their deceased loved ones.
Something that truly captivated my heart, in terms of your beautiful writing, was your description of eyes. This initially began from the beginning, where the writer of the letter was describing Alicia’s “warm brown eyes” which later set up for the power within the description of the eyes of the writer’s lover. My mind was filled with illustrations of beautiful eyes of a loving individual, the warmth which I perceived their eyes to be filled with; however, the first paragraph already imparted the information of the death of the loved one, and so, that was when I initially felt the sadness of the writer. From that point, I was helpless to your mastery of writing. There were various different moments where I was moved to pause, so as to gather myself, as well as to emotionally recover from the feelings that were conveyed to me.
I found great genius within your writing, one of the most powerful instances being when the writer speaks of being “struck adrift in the thick of darkness”, comparing it to smoke. On the day of September 11, 2001, a large amount of people succumbed to smoke caused from fire; they were unable to breathe. The writer’s similar condition gave me the gift of being able to find a small sense of understanding, something which I feel that I will be unable to repay you for. Never once throughout this entire piece, did I ever find any wavering in the writer, which, by the end of this magnificent piece, led me to forget that it was a fictional piece. I could feel the writer’s reality, their sadness, their melancholy towards the death of their loved one. I found myself lost in this piece, and when I reached the end of it, I found myself scrolling back to the top, wanting to understand this writer to a greater extent.
In terms of improvement, I find that I unfortunately have very little to offer. I feel that, given the writing that you were able to produce, you could have made use of the closing, as well as the signature of the writer. I’m unsure as to how you may implement these last parts of the letter to augment the effect of your powerful piece (perhaps something along the lines of, “Your loving Partner, (Writer’s Name).
I’d like to thank you for writing such a piece, as it truly granted me the ability to immerse myself in the world, in the mind, of one who has experienced the death of a loved one to an event that was out of their control. Although this piece caused sadness within me, this was essential to find the significance of the love that can always be found around us. Thank you Victoria. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to try and feel the pain of loss that a lover may experience. Thank you for allowing me to read how the love that one feels for a loved one may live on regardless of death. Thank you for writing this piece, that gave me the gift of treasuring the loved ones I have around me.
Thank you.
Sincerely, and with the Greatest of Gratitude,
Rehman
Dearest Victoria,
I completely agree with Rehman. You piece was so beautiful and heartbreaking at the same time, it made me cry on the inside. I loved the way you used imagery to enhance the emotions of the lover, like “the rain races down my window while tears race down my face, while all I wish is for the rain to wash away my pain”. When I read this, I thought about how scenes in literature and movies always seem to have rain during sad moments. I would love to see you use personification on the rain, like, “the quiet, understanding or sympathetic” rain so that nature can relate to the lover.
What I really thought was interesting was the description of eyes, like Rehman said, the copper against sage eyes, had me thinking about people who love each other notice the small little details of their significant other, that not everyone else notices. And that they love those little small details. The lover distinctively remembers the partner’s eyes, and I really liked that idea. It was truly breathtaking.
When you mentioned God, and how he took away the lover, I started wondering why God, or rather how could God be so cruel to take away someone so precious. It reminded me of the question I have always asked myself: What does God really do?
When you wrote about 9/11 it was definitely an “oh” or realization moment for me, and it reminded me of I am Malala, which isn’t exactly one of my favourites but it was still beautiful just like your piece, so thank you for that.