Dear Preacher

Dear Preacher,

First of all, I wanted to thank you for simply being here. For not giving up yet and for holding on, not because we want you to, but because you have decided that your life is, in some way, worth it. That is no small thing. Facing death every day while simultaneously finding reasons to stay is an act of strength, because living requires courage.

I wanted to thank you for coming into my life just when everything was falling apart. Everyone and everything I cared about seemed too far removed to truly understand me. But you were different. Even though thousands of miles lie between us, over four thousand to the west, and we have never met in person, your voice sounds like that of an old friend I’ve known forever. Your wisdom reaches me as if from the depths of blue waters, resonating in those moments when I need support or simply someone to listen. It makes a world of difference, having someone by your side versus having no one at all. And for that, I thank you.

I often wondered what caused that fracture within me. As if my father’s ruptured aorta hadn’t been enough to tear us apart, moving to a new city caused old grievances to resurface with renewed force, flooding my already precarious world. While I staggered under that weight, others scoffed. You were the only one who apologised for them and explained their behaviour, all while standing firmly by my side. I imagine that having a large family of your own taught you to set aside judgment and truly listen. As you used to say, every family has its own ways, and none is perfect. I think you’re right. It just so happened that I was left alone on the path toward the ambitious goals everyone else was striving for. Now, on this long and lonely road, you are the only one by my side. A friend in need is a friend indeed.

Over that year of conversations, we covered every topic imaginable. Depressing tales of wretched politics, subjects I never wanted to hear about, mingled with stories of heroic deeds performed by you and others. They featured your classmates and girlfriends, sons and daughters, your cats and my dogs. They all came alive in our words, sometimes lingering there a little longer than they deserved. In our stories, real friends and enemies, mine and yours alike, would soar to the heights one moment, only to plummet to rock bottom the next. We always made sure to craft new lives for them, lives they wouldn't have to be ashamed of this time around, in this second incarnation. And the whole thing was infused with psychology, like the finest wine.

We talked about movies, and, despite our somewhat different choices (understandable, given that you live in America and I am European), we managed to find common ground. That’s a good thing. It kept our conversation going and allowed us to compare our worlds. And since my interests have often drawn me to the West, I am glad you could share so much of your life with me, just as I could share mine. I must admit, though, that you are a far better conversationalist than I am. There are many reasons for this: your profession, your background, and so on. Yet I still feel we share what matters most: our humanity and a progressive outlook on the world. We never give up in the face of challenges. We meet them openly and with class, even when we encounter resistance or attacks from others. We understand each other thanks to the close friendship we’ve built, a bond so strong it feels as though it has lasted a lifetime.

I want you to always remember that your presence is like a wall protecting against all the harmful actions of others. If you weren't there, the situation would be far worse. I know you don't feel that way, but that is the reality. Sometimes simple truths matter more than feelings, especially the negative ones we harbour, because our minds can be deceptive. And those conversations lasting until dawn, amidst the thorns that life threw in our path at the most unexpected moments, they are truly priceless!

Stay humble and stay safe.

Sincerely,

Your Friend