Never Forgotten

It's been a while since I've been here. Time to clear out the old flowers and put new ones in, scrub lichen from the stone so the inscription shows again.

I still miss her; deeply miss reading her inspirational daily emails to me, her regular letters in thick envelopes stuffed full of the most wonderful miscellanies in Portuguese, advertising rock concerts, exhibits in museums, photos of the beach of Porto Alegre and other little things, like birds' feathers, photos of herself, and handcarved little wooden jaguars no more than an inch long.

I still have her little hand carved wooden jaguar. It's pristine. I keep it, along with a bunch of assorted stuff from her, in my apartment, in a safe place. I've never let go of it.

The first email she sent me was back in 1998. It was on May 28; the last day of college for me. Final exams were looming in a fortnight. This was the last Friday I was to spend at the North East Wales Institute in Wrexham as a student.

And just as I was about to pack in and leave, this email dropped in my Inbox. It was Flávia. Why she came to me, I have no idea. But I thanked God for her existence every day after that.

And that is what I like to remember about her: her living memory. The joys she brought me when she was alive.

When I got the letter from Laura Cattani, informing me that Flávia was no more, I couldn't breathe. For a while, it was bad. I recovered, and composed a poem - The Ashen Path. Tragically, I kept it on the hard drive of a computer that failed. The file was irretrievable.

The poem below was composed elsewhere, for another reason. But it still works, so it stays here. Maybe one day I'll manage to dig up the hard copy of The Ashen Path and put it up here. One day.

It's been almost ten years, now, since Flávia set foot on the Ashen Path. More than ten years since she began emailing me, and the friendship began. And still my heart aches when I think of her.

And the worst part? I never got to hear what her laughter sounded like.

Rest in peace, Flávia. You'll always be loved.

From me:

On Departure

There is a heart
In this mixed up town
And it's going away.

When I was afraid
You came to me
And took the fear away.

I found my feet
And learned to laugh
And stretched out my wings.

But all too soon
Came the far cry
From the distant horizon.

Life is sweet
But happiness is fleeting.
Only the Void endures.

There is a heart
In this mixed up town
And it's going away.

by Alexander T Greene
Copyright © A T Greene, 1999

From Laura Cattani,
Flavia's closest friend

One day at school, in 1996, a boy from my class told me he saw in a magazine the P.O Box of a girl who had the same musical taste as me. Which, at that time, was quite difficult to find.

I wrote her a letter. When the reply arrived, a pleasant surprise: not only we had many things in common, but we both lived in the same city. After a second letter, we exchanged our phone number, and soon started to call each other.

Then we met. ... and my life would never be the same after that.

We started to discover more and more affinities. We spoke for hours about ancient worlds and beliefs, we spoke of the sea and the stars, we shared impressions and feelings about life and death and whatever else could be there.

We had great times together. She made me discover songs and books that are now my favourites. We liked the same artists, made plans for the future, planned to travel together, laughed, helped each other, had fights, went out at night to party dressed as we pleased, listened to music, drank lots of red wine, sang under the stars, slept on the grass, danced around bonfires.

We stood for what we believed in. A couple of happy Goths, you could say.

Sometimes, despite the fact we looked REALLY different, people thought we were twins - which was not only funny, but nearly true: She was like a sister to me.

We spent most of our time together. But then one day, "we" became "I".

She was taken away from me, and from the world.

All I can remember is that, when I was told what happened, I could not feel the floor under my feet. For an instant, I couldn't feel my body. And then I saw my world falling apart. A part of my flesh and soul was being ripped apart to be buried out of my reach.

The day of her funeral I brought roses, sea shells, crystal stones from the fields were we used to walk, and candles to lay on her grave. I sat in vigil for her at her graveside all afternoon, until the cemetery gates were closed. I drank some red wine to honour her memory with two other friends, and we decided to do so every year.

I cannot remember what I did the month that followed. I was dead to the world living for this pain.

There hasn't been a single day, since she was taken apart from me, that I haven't thought of her. But the show must go on, and so shall I.

And now, despite the pain of the loss, I am glad I met her. Everything surrounding me is part of her somehow. She will never be forgotten.

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This page, its contents and this whole site, are Copyright © Alexander T Greene, 2001. All rights reserved.

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