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Gah! I had this whole author's note typed out on here, then the page wouldn't come up. T.T
Okay. This was for a writing contest on GaiaOnline. The entry had to be a letter of confession, and this is what I came up with. It was influenced very, very much by the song "A Lifetime" by Better Than Ezra. The video for the song can be found on my profile page, but the version of the song featured in the video is not the exact one that I love; the song was released on two separate albums, and the version on the video is the newest one, from the album Before the Robots, which is amazing.
Anyway...I can't write letters to save my life, but I really, really like how this turned out. Normally, I put down everything I write, but I love this, and I hope you will as well. So now, enjoy. Please R&R.
I don't really know what to say here, or if you even care to hear my apology, but I am going to try to explain. At Allie's wake last week, I could barely stand being there, staring at the walls of the house you one shared with her as her mother. You can probably imagine how awful I feel, but I know your pain is much worse. The bond between you and her will always be stronger than the bond she and I could ever have shared.
Allie loved the beach, and I suspected you would know that, but it may have slipped your mind in these recent trying days. She wouldn't want her ashes to be spread anywhere else. I mean no offense to you, but that is how I think she would have wanted it. That is the reason I stole the urn at the wake. I couldn't stand to watch her ashes be spread over some cold, lonely cemetery, to let them just sit in the grass until the rain came and swept them away or until they were disturbed by the boots of a gravedigger or a mourner. It seems like an unfitting way to lay her to rest--her rambunctious personality and spontaneity were too much for that kind of fate.
I drove her out to the peak, up where we used to swim every night during the summer last year, before we entered the last year of high school, before we would finally be free to do what we wished. It is a shame that she had to die the morning of graduation, and I know how upset you were that you weren't there that morning to drive her to the ceremony. But it wasn't your fault, and I hope you know that. As much as you blame yourself for her death, she knows it wasn't your fault. God, she loved you. She could never blame you for anything.
I don't know why I haven't told you about stealing the urn yet. In the days following the wake, I saw how upset you were that it had disappeared. I wasn't trying to dishonor you or disgrace you in any way, and I am terribly sorry that you were so upset. My actions were spontaneous and rash, and I accept all responsibility if you wish to press charges or otherwise find a way to punish me. I don't care. Allie is at rest in the one place she loved the most.
Like the ocean she loved, she pushed and pulled at me like the tide, forever trying to pull me from my shell. She talked about you constantly, Mrs. Summers, and I hope you never think she didn't care about you. Oftentimes, it seemed as if your bond was deeper than that of mother and daughter--more like a soul-to-soul connection, incomprehensible to mere mortals in every meaning. I couldn't help being jealous of that bond, both because I had never been able to form one like it with my mother and because I wanted Allie to be mine. I fell in love with your daughter, and I have every intention of telling you everything if you want me to. She was my life when I moved here to this tiny costal town in South Carolina, and without her, I don't think I would be where I am today, both physically and emotionally. She was the one who showed me how to live, that it was all right to take chances. She urged me away from my boundaries of safety, and I in turn kept her inside the boundaries of sanity. She was beautiful, and if you could have seen the way her ashes rained down into the sea, you would have appreciated her even more.
I chose the ocean because it was like her second home. She often joked that she had been a fish in a past life, or a mermaid that had terrorized the ships crossing from England. The way she moved and spoke was always languid and poetic in nature. Her thoughts were sometimes as rough and tough as a stormy sea, or as calm and gentle as the waters that wash over the sand. She will forever be where she loved to be, a part of something that touches every part of the world, just like she touched every part of yours and mine. She is part of something mysterious and occasionally dangerous, like the glint she used to get in her eyes. Her ashes will be tossed to and fro by the waves, a metaphor for life in general, and when the skies clear and the moon wanes, she will be floating calmly in water that means no harm.
Enclosed in this envelope is a tape. I thought that if I was going to steal your daughter's urn, I should at least let you see her ashes fall into the water. The tape includes a collection of footage I took of her when she was alive: Playing in the ocean water or throwing sand in the air, laughing, crying, singing, dancing, and teasing me as I recorded it all—everything Allie loved will forever be preserved on that tape in moving images of the young woman we both adored, and her spirit will forever live on in both of our hearts, never to be forgotten or replaced. I am different than what you probably think I am. I could see the real Allie, like she could see the real me, far beyond physical appearances. I will always remember that, and I will always remember you, no matter how little time we've spent together.
Also enclosed is a copy of a CD Allie made for me a few weeks ago. I haven't been able to stop listening to it, and every time I do, I wish I could break the disk over my knee, but I keep listening anyway, if only to remember. They were our songs, and ours together, connecting us and bringing us closer. Hopefully they can help you to remember your daughter for years to come.
After the graduation ceremony, I was going to give Allie a ring, one by which she could remember all the times we spent together. It isn't an engagement ring, but believe me, I truly wish it was, because had I given it to her before she died, she would have known how much I loved her and that I had finally found someone with whom I wanted to spend my life, and that would have made her happy. Except she didn't need physical objects to know that. It was as if she could feel our affection all around her in a crackling cloud of bright colors and the sound of beating wings—ones that would take her to Heaven before she turned eighteen. I want you to have that ring. Even though she never saw it or wore it, to me, it is still a part of her. It has her birth stone—a sapphire set in white gold—and on the inside is one of her favorite sayings: "Never let me go." It is also in the envelope.
Please, don't be angry with me for stealing Allie's urn. We both know it was what she wanted, and what she would have done for either of us. If you want to be angry, please feel free. I can understand your pain, and I am willing to be your scapegoat if you need someone to hate. Just please, don't hate yourself or Allie or anyone else. Allie's death was no one's fault; it was simply an accident—a freak accident to end a perfect life just minutes before it began to take flight.
Again, I am so sorry. You should have been with me when I did it, and I realize that now that my mind has cleared. Forgive me, and please accept the enclosed items as gifts to you from me, the boy who loved your daughter's beautiful soul.
Go to the ocean, down to the peak. Stand on the edge of the outcropping and listen, and I promise you'll hear her voice again.
With deepest regards,
Sebastian Niebieski