liberdade

My love, I was so wrong. Dying is the opposite of leaving. When I left my body, I did not go away. That portal of light was not a portal to elsewhere, but a portal to here. I am more here than I ever was before. I am more with you than I ever could have imagined. So close you look past me when wondering where I am. It’s Ok. I know that to be human is to be farsighted. But feel me now, walking the chambers of your heart, pressing my palms to the soft walls of your living. Why did no one tell us that to die is to be reincarnated in those we love while they are still alive? Ask me the altitude of heaven, and I will answer, “How tall are you?” In my back pocket is a love note with every word you wish you’d said. At night I sit ecstatic at the loom weaving forgiveness into our worldly regrets. All day I listen to the radio of your memories. Yes, I know every secret you thought too dark to tell me, and love you more for everything you feared might make me love you less. When you cry I guide your tears toward the garden of kisses I once planted on your cheek, so you know they are all perennials. Forgive me, for not being able to weep with you. One day you will understand. One day you will know why I read the poetry of your grief to those waiting to be born, and they are all the more excited. There is nothing I want for now that we are so close I open the curtain of your eyelids with my own smile every morning. I wish you could see the beauty your spirit is right now making of your pain, your deep seated fears playing musical chairs, laughing about how real they are not. My love, I want to sing it through the rafters of your bones, Dying is the opposite of leaving. I want to echo it through the corridor of your temples, I am more with you than I ever was before.  Do you understand? It was me who beckoned the stranger who caught you in her arms when you forgot not to order for two at the coffee shop. It was me who was up all night gathering sunflowers into your chest the last day you feared you would never again wake up feeling lighthearted. I know it’s hard to believe, but I promise it’s the truth. I promise one day you will say it too– I can’t believe I ever thought I could lose you.

I've spent all afternoon thinking about the line from Wentworth's letter "you sink your voice, but I can distinguish the tones of that voice when they would be lost on others" and about how that really is the most important part of the letter. Yes "you pierce my soul" and "I have loved none but you" and "I offer myself to you again with a heart even more your own than when you almost broke it, eight years and a half ago" are all more swoon-worthy. But the whole point of Persuasion is how Anne suffers because none of her friends or family acknowledge her needs or anything she says. She is made small by everyone around her. She is persuadable because she has been stripped of her agency; not by the circumstances of her life, but because the people in her life have talked over and down to her so much that she has stopped resisting. She knows that she won't be heard, so she just stops speaking. But then Wentworth hears her voice! He hears her, sees her, and he loves her for who she is, not what he wants her to be. I think Jane Austen knew exactly what she was doing by including that line. It's so subtle in such a purposeful way.

When Everything Everywhere All at Once said “The only thing I do know is that we have to be kind. Please, be kind, especially when we don’t know what’s going on"