Today's Reading
Dear Mrs Winters,
I hope you don't mind the email.
You may remember me. You taught me mathematics at Hollybrook. I am now 22 years old and in my final year at university. I am studying mathematics, you will be pleased to hear!
I bumped into Mr Gupta in town in the Easter break and I asked after you and he told me all your news. I'm sorry to hear about the loss of your husband. Mr Gupta said you have moved to Spain. I had a grandmother who moved back to Grenada, which she hadn't visited since she was seven, and she found happiness there. I hope you are happy with your move abroad.
I too have experienced grief recently. My mum died two years ago and after that I fell into despair. I don't get on with my father and have found it hard to focus on university work. My sis (you may remember Esther) needs even more support now. I let my girlfriend down and she broke up with me. There have been other things too. At times I have found it very hard to carry on. It feels my life is already written at this young age and everything is known. I sometimes can't breathe with all the pressure.
I am in a pattern, like a number pattern, a Fibonacci sequence 0, 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, 21 etc. and like that sequence things get less surprising the further I go on. But instead of realising the next number is found by adding the two before it, you realise that everything ahead of you has already been decided. And as I get older, as I pass more numbers, the pattern becomes more predictable. And nothing can break that pattern. I used to believe in God but now I don't believe in anything. I was in love, but I messed that up. I hate myself sometimes. I mess everything up. I feel guilty all the time. I am drinking too much, and it screws up my studies and I feel guilty for that too because Mum wanted me to try hard.
I look at what is happening in the world and I see that our whole species is on a path to destruction. Like it is programmed, another pattern. And I just get fed up with being a human, being this small tiny thing that can't do anything about the world. Everything feels impossible.
I don't know why I'm telling you this. I just wanted to tell someone. And you were always kind to me. I am in the dark and I need a light. Sorry. That sounds melodramatic. I just need to be a good role model for my sister.
Please don't feel obliged to answer this. But anything you can say will be greatly valued. Sorry for the long email.
Thank you,
Maurice (Augustine)
Dear Maurice,
Thank you so much.
I am not in the habit of getting back to emails, not that I get a great many of them. I don't really 'do' the internet at all. I don't have social media. All I have is WhatsApp and I rarely even use that. But with your message I felt I must reply, and reply properly.
I am so sorry for all you have been through. I remember your mother from parents' evenings. I liked her. I remember her as serious, but with a little smile twisting the corners of her mouth when she spoke about you. You clearly cheered her up. Just being you. And that was a real achievement, especially for a teenager.
I started writing a response to you and it just grew and grew, far beyond a little email.
I have been meaning to write this all down for quite some time now, to be honest with you, and your message was the perfect prompt.
What I am about to tell you is a story even I find hard to believe. Please don't feel any obligation to take my word for anything. But know that nothing in this is made up. I have never believed in magic, and I still don't. But sometimes what looks like magic is simply a part of life we don't understand yet.
I can't promise that my story will help you believe in the impossible. But it is a tale, as true as any, of a person who felt there was no point left in her existence, and then found the greatest purpose she had ever known, and I think I have a duty to share it. I am definitely no role model, as will probably become clear. I have felt a lot of guilt in my life. And in a way this is a story about that. I hope you find some of it valuable.
Please find it attached.
Very best wishes,
Grace Winters
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