Dear Zakhar pt. 1

One day you will probably have a lot of questions about life, about me, about everything in general. There will be happy days, there will be sad days, there will be days when you feel like you just want to bury everything to the ground. You will have to live through it, harness it, mould it however way you want. It is unfortunate that I cannot be there for you, but I am always with you, as you are always with me. Sometimes I feel the same, and there are times when the weight of everything else shoulders upon you indiscriminately, and you and I are wanting to break free. I want you to understand very clearly that you mean so much to me even if everything and everyone else tell you otherwise. You have been the rock that has rested forever in my heart for all the days to come. I want you to know and understand that nothing in our life was ever made in spite. I want you to remember and remember well, just as your name suggests.

When we look back to the days, we tend to remember only the things that make our hearts more fonder. It is a normal defence mechanism to shield us away from all the things that have inflicted upon our hearts. But the things that hurt the most will be the same thing that will make you want to do good and be better and even be the best, of who you can be, and who you will become. Do not let anything else hold you back from who you are. Remember that we once lived. Remember that we had shared joys and sorrows as well together. Remember that sometimes what is worth loving will not always love you back the same amount as you do, and yet you persevere, and love them anyway, and you fight for it until the very end.

For me, at this point in my life, the story is over, but yours has only just began.

My mother, your grandmother, used to tell me that "life begins at forty." She used to wear a black t-shirt that said this when she was at that age, and me probably a little bit more older than you are now. It always stuck with me because I thought, at that age, that forty was kind of a bit old. Sadly I am almost there, not feeling old yet, mind you, but tired beyond reason. About ten years ago, me and a few friends went to a club here in London, where you were born, before I met your mother, and, still have not reached thirty years old yet. I went to the smoking area where I normally go to catch a breath. I was never much of the party type myself, I am sure your mother can vouch. While there, I spoke and smoked and joked around with the other smokers. One of them then asks me, "What do you want to be before you turn thirty?" I was not close to thirty yet during this time, and I was certain that the jokey vibe turned a bit soft and schmaltzy for some reason, so I retorted, "I do not want to be thirty; I would rather die, kill myself, if I was not up to par with myself." The whole group vibe completely lost its mojo, and it became rather of a bleak affair. The jokes died along that night, and something inside myself internalised that whole moment into something that became a philosophy.

I fell in love with someone that was not your mother not long after, and crossed that threshold of age that somewhat bothered me. I did not after all want to end my life. I wanted to nurture that love that was burgeoning. It all shattered anyway not long after. And then years pass, and I completely moved past away from the threshold. Ten more years later, now as I write you this, I find myself in a similar groove.

If there was any regret whatsoever that I have in the life I have been given, is that I will not be there with you when you start feeling all these funny feelings life gives you later on. The only solace I can offer you is that your mother certainly loves you too. We both love and care for you very much. She has been instrumental in tempering these emotions away from me, and I know that she will do whatever it takes. Your mother is an amazing and most caring and most authentic human being I have ever met. She lifted me way up when I was way down.

The plan is to do what I have always done to myself. Penance. Reconciliation for this struggle. But this time there is no going back. You would probably think I am taking the coward way out. I have never been more scared my entire life, and you should not neither. The only thing worse than not being happy is by not being sad. Your mother would disagree, but I firmly hold the notion that life will always be like this, whether we choose to or not, so go on and let live. Worry not about the idea of limitation but taking life by the skin of your teeth.

Kit and I will always be with you. You probably will not remember Kit, too, by the time you catch this. She was always so annoyed of you, almost kind of jealous, by the idea that we somehow replaced her with you, but that was not always the case. She would scratch you by the face, by the hand, by the leg, only because you yourself were also very annoying. I thoroughly enjoyed remembering every bit of how annoying you always were. Both of you were. In a few days from now, sadly, I am hoping to find her a new home that will truly care for her. I will truly miss her as I miss you too, and your mother.  And once that is done, I am off to the wider unknown, to the great uncertainty.