- Sir Philip Sidney (Sydney), Arcadia
I grabbed unopened junk mail on my way out the door this morning. I had allowed it to accumulate, and its presence at the bottom of the stairwell was an irritant that had finally grown large enough to force me out of inactivity. Unless it is patently junk, I open all mail, if only to make sure that there's no check inside, nor notice that a heretofore unknown great-aunt had died, leaving me as the sole beneficiary to a fortune rivaling that of Bill Gates. I can't say either of those possibilities has actually panned out in the last few years, but still open anything that isn't patently an ad for mattresses or a begging letter from my undergraduate school.
There was a card-sized envelope from Gift of Life near the top of the stack. Gift of Life is the organization that oversees organ donation in my region. I opened it, half expecting it to be an invitation to some function being held at their new building that opens next week. It wasn't that.
A typed cover letter explained that I could choose to respond to the letter or not - it was up to me, depending on whether or not I felt ready. Instructions on how to respond if I chose to followed. A photocopy of the note in question came after the cover, handwritten in Spanish. Another typed page at the back of the pack provided an English translation. Tucked neatly inside the folded pages was the photograph of a young boy.
He wears a checked yellow shirt and a solemn expression and looks straight into the camera. He stands behind a stone wall that comes up to mid-chest on him, with his arms resting atop the wall in front of him. There is greenery behind him. It is obviously a studio setting, but the props are understated and subtle. The boy's direct gaze is what commands attention in the photo. There is a slight crack in the photo, just above the boy's neatly cropped brown hair. It gives the impression that this photo has lived a previous life in someone's wallet. The letter, reproduced exactly here, explains:
My name is ***** and you don't know how happy I was to receive your letter because at least I know that my son still lives on. I lost two children as a result of the fire, my son would now be 14 years old and he was beautiful with good feelings and was always caring about everyone in his family. You don't know how difficult this has been for me. I still haven't been able to recuperate. My daughter that I lost was super-loving, sweet and really close to me. Sometimes I wish I could die but the only thing that sustains me is my two remaining children. I have my 6-year-old son who was also in the fire whose face was burned and has received five surgeries and still has two remaining, but thank God he's recovering. My 13 year old daughter is such a good girl, she always helps with everything and is very close to me and because of my children, this is how I can maintain myself despite losing everything including my home. The people that live near me and people that I don't even know have provided me with donations that have allowed me the ability to buy a house from an auction and one of my husband's friends is helping to fix it. I am already living in the house although I still need a few things but little by little the most important thing is that we are alive and everything else will come to us slowly.I hope that we remain in contact and please take good care of yourself because you have p art of my son and I feel as if he's still alive. If there's a day that you're not feeling well, just know that I would be feeling the same as you, so please take good care of yourself and tell your husband to take good care of you because you are blessed. I am sending you a picture of my beautiful son of whom you carry inside so that you could know him.
I hope that you'll reply soon because I want to know about your health.
I care for you very much, take care.
This is a thing I am unprepared for. It wasn't supposed to be like this. I knew that my survival would be shrouded in tragedy. I did not imagine so much pain and suffering though. I hardly know how to bear a life borne of this magnitude of loss.
My life was not worth this trade. If there is a God, he has much to answer for.