I know-- It's been years. However, the whole "... and the climate in Spain is more agreeable than Britain's'' is just not enough to establish a true and open level of communication regarding your disappearance. How about starting with "I left you children, and I'm sorry." That would be nice. What would work the best for us is another reminder that fairness does not exist. We were left delusional-- thinking that will could take us far enough. As my dear friend Karen states about re-incarnation-- that would perpetuate the idea that life is fair-- and my expectations are pretty low. Life is not fair. Life can be cloudy, and far less potent than you imagined. It's beauty lies in fragrant details, in vastness and endless gifts, but not so much in detrimental opacity.
They are so low that the work I have to do to get your attention again seems like more effort than it's reward. Is it? Shall I chase you to your idyllic residence in Spain? Should my sisters write, and wait for an answer-- like girls in love? If you have felt unsure, after these long years of ambiguity, were you sure enough to ask these questions: What is my responsibility here? Are these my children? What do I want? Have I tried? You have had plenty of time, and I say that with generosity of spirit.
If your audience is willing, it's not so much to ask for simple truths. These are questions you have presented to the world-- take responsibility for them. Of course it is awful-- we do awful things. Recognition is one of the only things I can think of that ever changes that. So many people I know-- in pain-- could be consoled by such recognition. It appears that it is not a good idea to leave a person with longing. Longing turns into other things-- it becomes self-worth, becomes identity, becomes recognition. Becomes longing.
At least tell my sisters of your sorrows, of your inability to speak. It probably isn't it enough that you have removed yourself so surgically-- now you have the honor of position, as well. Of dialogue. Of need. It sickens me to think of them waiting for a kind word from you. Real sickening-- lost opportunity, lost narrative-- forgoing an explanation that shouldn't be so difficult.
Step up to the plate, dude. It's not so hard. Here's how it goes: 'I wanted a different life. I found it. I abandoned you.' That's all, right? Sure, your intentions may have been different-- but you did it-- it's over, the bomb long gone off near the center. Surgery changes the shrapnel, nothing changes the bomb.
Sadly, we are still waiting,