Chapter Text
"Dear Clarke
If you are reading this letter, it is because I have left, my spirit has left this old body. God knows how much I have tried to take care of it, but it has still given me some fights. I hope you'll don’t go through the same as I have my dear, so always pay attention to your body, take care of it so it doesn’t screw you in your old age.
Clarke, you know that you have always been special to me, and we have shared so many things, so many beautiful moments that I will take with me wherever my spirit goes. You have returned love and joy to my life. The light of your love, of your very existence, made me remember that life is about more than just surviving, darling, so you must never forget that.
My only regret is not being able to tell you a very special story, that I lived when I was very very young, innocent, and also a bit silly. It was the story that marked my life forever, a story that I never told anyone, not even your dear mother.
When you confessed to me that day in tears about your enormous fear to discover that you liked both, men and women, I felt that my soul went back many years to the past. At that time I couldn't tell you, I was a coward, darling, and I hope you'll forgive me one day for that. But when I told you that I understood you very well, and you looked at me with those beautiful blue eyes, confused, or disbelieving in my words, imagining that, of course, Grandma couldn't know what you were feeling, but I did more than you could ever imagine.
When I was barely 20 years old, I got a wonderful scholarship to study art in Paris, for a year. Uncle John helped me get it and passionately fought for me in the face of the flat denial of my parents. They couldn't conceive letting me go to the other side of the world, being a woman and at such a young age, for a whole year. In their eyes, it was complete madness.
Uncle John, as you know, or I have told you, was always my savior. He was a wealthy bohemian man, who traveled most of the time around the world. Knew many wonderful places, that he will always spoke about with excitement. Telling me about those incredible and so different places, about cultures and people from different countries and continents. And he knew about my two loves in life, art, and Paris.
Uncle John made my dream happen, don't ask me how, that I won that art study scholarship in that beautiful city of my dreams. Somehow I felt it was his very special 20th birthday gift to me, I mean, yes, I had come of age. But in those days being a woman was something that went against freedom, I mean it didn't matter that I was over 18, my parents still had absolute power over me until I married. Of course, when I was married my husband would take control of me. Oh yes, my dear, it was a real nightmare. I'm glad that you were born and raised in different times than me, and with more freedom.
I was very young, very innocent, and as I said, a little silly, believing too much in fantasies rather than reality. I dreamed of falling in love with a man, and living the dream of the beautiful and enchanted prince, and being happy forever. But my prince had not yet appeared, so I dedicated myself completely to my passion, which was art, drawing, painting, and studying French, because I was planning to fulfill the dream of visiting Paris one day.
The problem was that some time ago I noticed that my parents were trying to find a man, that they considered the best for me. In other words, they wanted me to marry a good man. A man of good name and money, who was very common in those days, and yes my dear, it was really shitty. But as I said, women were under the control of our own families, we had almost no right to think for ourselves, if it was not under the supervision of a man.
I already told you this, I'm sorry honey, but I am telling you again so that you understand the time in which I lived, and understand why I did such a stupid thing.
After fighting for my rights, my dear uncle John promised my parents that he would stay with me in Paris for that year, as a kind of guardian, and would take care of me. In addition, on my return I would marry Eduard Brewster. A young millionaire, that my parents had already arranged for me to marry, talking to his parents at various parties where they had introduced us.
The boy was handsome, I must admit, he had class, a good education, but he was so boring, he was so cold and distant, that darling, I was feeling like I was sitting by a tree at those parties. In addition, of the obvious fact that he was not interested in me, but in a young woman, who in those days, was a good friend of mine from the institute I was attending, Rose Miller, a beautiful girl by the way, but unfortunately was not very intelligent.
I had seen them a couple of times leaving together, and hiding from everyone. I knew that something was happening between them, but it was never my place to get involved or say something, even if I wanted to. As I explained, my parents were the ones who ruled over me, my love life, and the future. It was the same with the parents of the young Brewster, although as a man he had a little more right to protest, about the candidate that his parents chose as his future wife.
My friend Rose was not one of those candidates unfortunately, it was that she didn’t belong to the same social class, not to the same type of family lineage. Her parents had made their money by a stroke of luck with a steel business, but she didn’t come from a family of renown and lineage like us. Nonsense at those times, which at that time were extremely important.
As you can imagine, my trip to Paris was more than my dream come true, but it was also a way to escape from that family prison, and that duty that awaited me in the near future with the young Brewster. Oh just thinking about it churned my guts. There was nothing about him that I liked.
So with my uncle John I got onto that plane, which for me was the first time, something that terrified me greatly, but John was quick to distract me and reassure me. It was the summer of 1954, the journey was long and very hectic as we crossed over the great Atlantic Ocean. I will never forget it, I thought that at any moment, that huge steel bird would fall into the middle of the ocean, down below us. But you know, I would have died happy in those moments, freeing myself from that disguised slavery that awaited me on my return.
France was still slowly recovering from the events of World War II. Although the war had ended nine years earlier, many buildings were still in ruins, many people on the streets hungry, and not to mention that so-called "Cold War" that plagued all of Europe in some way.
It was not the most beautiful image of the city of love and lights, as it is known today, nor was it as I had always dreamed it to be. It was still being reborn, and there was still some way to go. But it was PARIS darling, ma belle Paris. So the moment I spotted the glorious Eiffel Tower, my eyes filled with tears, and a stupid huge smile settled on my face, and I smiled like an idiot for a long time as my Uncle John held my hand tight and smiling too. He did understand me much more than my own parents did. John was a person of his own class and family, and somehow took me under his wing. He instilled in me how to be free, to express myself, to fight for my rights, to be one of those women who were fighting for equal rights, and more respect. If my parents had known the "bad influence" that my uncle John was, they would have immediately taken me away from him forever.
Anyway, going back to my trip, my level of speaking French was excellent. I already spoke fluently, almost like I could speak English. Because I had always spoken it so naturally, and I had asked my parents from a very young age, to have extra classes in that beautiful language to speak it to. My connection to Belle France had always been there within me, for as long as I can remember. So I deduced that I had lived one of my many previous lives in that European country, and that the connection was never broken, despite being reborn in other distant lands.
I don't want to drag the story out, darling, so I will go to that moment, the one that would mark my life forever, or rather, talk to you about "HER". The first moment I saw her, it was a magical night, when my uncle took me to this Coffee bar, on Rue Lafayette, where he liked to go and meet his Parisian friends. The place was called "Casablanca", yes, you read that right, it is not a joke, it had the same name as the famous movie, our favorite movie, darling of mine. Only I didn't find Humphrey Bogart there, but I did find my beautiful Ingrid Bergman.
Well, I hope you haven't been drinking when you read my last sentence. I am really sorry dear Clarke, but yes, as you read, your Nana has lived a beautiful love story with a woman in her life. A story that I'll resume to tell you here. You can read the rest, in detail, in my personal diary, which has been given to you along with this letter.
Her name was Alexandrine Lesbois, she had brown long hair, incredible and magical huge green eyes, which always spoke to me in silence. A beautiful stylized face, with high and marked cheekbones, like those majestic Hollywood actresses, and thick gorgeous lips, like I had never seen before in my life, which were as smooth as silk. Her skin was as white as snow and smooth as silk itself.
But also, my precious Alexandrine had an incredible voice, which when she was singing, the bar was immediately silent. All the people in the bar were completely fascinated and hypnotized by that sweet voice. She sang those well-known songs, that the great Edith Piaf had made so popular. But in the voice of my beautiful Alexandrine, those songs were just wonderful and much more special in my ears,
She was my beautiful French bird singing to me. I fell in love with her sweet and wonderful charming voice, and those eyes that have remained in my memory and my soul forever. SHE was the greatest love of my life, my dear Clarke, yes, as you read.
That night, after her performance, my uncle John introduced us, since he knew Alexandrine very well. Right there I knew that I had fallen in love for the first time in life, I had no doubts, even though I was aware that she was a woman. I had never noticed a woman like that before, or felt sexually attracted to. I had my girlfriends, but I had never had feelings or any kind of physical attraction for any of them, more than a normal friendship, you know.
To put it simply, I didn't know I was bisexual, until I felt what I felt for Alexandrine. From the first moment I saw her, and heard her sing in that way so unique, so magical. Everything was unleashed inside me, at that moment, when she was singing "Sous le Ciel de Paris". Her charming green eyes met mine, they smiled at me immediately, and I swear to God they spoke to me in a language that I later knew was love at its purest.
She became my biggest inspiration, and I went crazy for a while drawing her, especially her face, her eyes, that had caught me like a flower to a bee. I spent hours distracted in my art classes, and the teachers caught my attention. When they asked me to draw a landscape, and I ended up unconsciously drawing her beautiful face, in the middle of a meadow full of wildflowers, or on a warm sunset on the beach.
With this letter and the personal diary, you have received a key. In the attic of my house, you will find an old closet, covered with a canvas. Inside you will find a very special treasure, that I have managed to keep secret. The paintings I brought back from Paris, her portrait, was one of the only things I could bring back from her, to always remember her by.
In the diary, you will find a photo of Alexandrine, a handkerchief with her exquisite perfume on it, and a petal of a red rose from the first one she gave me. The same night she stole that first kiss from me, under the old lamppost of a bridge, over the Seine river.
I felt my legs like jelly, and my mind went to who knows where, for those seconds of union, with none other than my soulmate. My face was a true picture, when I opened my eyes and saw her smiling at me in that special way that produced so many things. And her soft hand caressing my face with enormous sweetness. We fell in love at first sight, you could say, although it was not easy for me, especially, to accept or express it.
A couple of years earlier, she had come to Paris, dreamed of being a singer like her great idol Edith Piaf. Her family lived in a city not far from Paris, called Strasbourg, east of the French capital, in the Alsace area. An area well known for the white and muscat wine production, the best in the country. Her family was a working middle class and worked in the vineyards. Even Alexandrine had worked since she was a child with her parents, and brothers in the grape harvests.
But my Alexandrine had always dreamed of being a famous singer, and singing for large audiences. Her mother encouraged her to follow her dream, and helped her buy a train ticket to Paris. There her aunt Amélie was waiting for her to settle with her, in a small apartment over the "Casablanca" bar. There her aunt worked as a waitress at night, and cleaned houses during the day. Her aunt got her a trial with the owner of the bar, who was looking for new singers to entertain her vast nightly clientele. Upon hearing the voice of my sweet Alexandrine, the owner didn’t hesitate to give her a chance, which was far exceeded, since the audience fell in love with her immediately, as I did when I first heard it.
Soon the clientele in the bar grew a lot because everyone wanted to hear her unique voice, her wonderful performances, and little by little her fame in Paris grew. She managed to make a good sum of money, with which she sent to her beloved family once a month, she also visited them whenever she could. The poor thing didn’t have many days off, since the owner of the bar was an exploiter. In addition, that cretin also had other intentions with her, but Alexandrine was an extraordinary young woman, with great intelligence, and very independent, in addition to being able to face whatever life dealt her. Yes, somehow she managed to keep her boss, and any man in particular who tried to approach her, with dirty intentions at bay. Alexandrine liked only women, something she new since she was a teen or so, but of course she always kept it to herself. In those times being gay was really difficult, and you normally needed to be very carefully with your relationships, and kept them in the shadows. Yes, even in the open mind european world, was something hard to accept.
However we lived a beautiful and very intense romance, despite having to hide it all the time, you know. Although we were very excited to hear of a movement in Europe for liberated women, and of that ambiguous sexuality. That gave us a slight hope of a future together, without having to hide it as if it were a terrible sin, for which we should be burned at the stake.
I'm not going to go into the details darling, you know well what it means to love a woman, besides, it is not appropriate for a lady to describe certain moments. But what I have lived with her, you can read as I have told you in that personal diary, that I have written about that crazy and great love story. You can also read about the aftermath, that it all ended in a way that if it could have gone back in time, it might never have ended like that.
But also if I could have changed that pass, or my decision, perhaps you, my dear child, would not have been reading this letter today. So as I always say, God and the Universe know why sometimes things happen the way they do. Although we regret it, even if it hurts, and we want to go back in time and correct those decisions we made wrongly. Those mistakes make sense, when times pass. We come to accept them, because they teach us to love, they teach us not to repeat them, so that we can see what a bad decision can do, and especially the silly fear of facing what we feel for someone.
Dear Clarke, never be afraid to fight for the love of a person, whom you feel you have joined, not only in body but also with your soul. Don’t miss the wonderful opportunity to live your life with that special person, who manages to illuminate your heart with a simple glance. The one that make you lose your mind, all sense of reason, and that in each night that you give yourself to, and that you feel your body on fire, and your soul flying so high, that nothing can return you to earth.
Alexandrine made me feel all that and more, she was the great love of my life, the only one, I must say. I’m sorry to tell you that I loved your grandfather William very much, but I could never love him the way I did, and that I still feel that I do with her.
I always felt that Alexandrine was my soulmate, and for a long time, I dreamed of the possibility of meeting her again in this life. But seeing that the years passed so quickly, and my age increased, and other factors absorbed my interest, such as the wonderful family I have. Well, she stayed in the beautiful memories of my heart. In my many dreams, where I returned to her arms, heard her voice singing those beautiful songs to me again, and where her eyes took me to paradise, one from which I didn’t want to leave.
Perhaps while reading this letter I will be close to her again, I don’t know if she is still alive or she is dead as I’m now. That is why my dear Clarke I have written this long letter, and I have given it to my lawyer and personal friend Michael, so that after my death, he would give it to you personally, and also ask you to fulfill my last wish.
I need you to travel to Paris, darling, with my ashes, and look for my beloved Alexandrine, if she still lives, and give her my urn, and a letter that you will find in my diary. A very special letter that only her hands can open, and only her eyes can read its content, as well as I wish that she has my ashes and decides to do with them what she likes.
I could never explain to my beautiful Alexandrine what happened, why I left without saying goodbye, without telling her how much she meant to me in my life. Why I couldn't continue living in a dream as wonderful as that one, next to her. Tell her that I never stopped loving her, never stopped belonging to her body and soul, even though I married your grandfather, and made a beautiful family that I have loved with all my heart, and for which I have been infinitely grateful to God and the Universe.
You may wonder what happened to the young Brewster, to whom I was almost married to, as a result of my parent’s wishes. Well, he tragically died during that year that I was in Paris, in a car accident. Apparently he had a quarrel with his father, I think it was because he said he wanted to marry Rose instead of me. Obviously his parents flatly refused, and he, furious with that denial, got drunk and got in his car that night, driving at high speed lost control, and violently crashed into a tree. dying instantly.
You don’t know how sad my poor friend Rose was, how broken she was. When I returned from France, she was suffering from depression, and what can I say, I suffered internally with her, in my case, for having left Alexandrine in Paris, without even saying goodbye to her, without explaining my hard decision to return to America.
I was introduced to your grandfather a year later, but with him, things were different. Almost immediately we became friends, good pals, as they call today. We had things in common and he respected me a lot, in addition to giving me the freedom to be myself, and for that simple fact, I loved him very much, and honored and respected our marriage.
But I never loved him, I could never love him the way he loved me over the years. We had a wonderful family, and then you came that autumn morning in October. My first granddaughter, and when I saw you and held you in my arms for the first time, I knew right away, that you were my succession in life. You were born the same day as me, and the features on your face and those beautiful blue eyes, that looked at me for a long time, even when you was so small, told me in my heart, that I had a very special person in my arms. And I was not mistaken, and I thank God for the grace of having had you in my life, and that we have shared so much.
Now, back to my last wish, dear Clarke, I need you to bring not only my ashes to Paris but also my last words to my beloved Alexandrine. I know that from wherever I’m, I will be by your side every step of your way until you find her. I’ll be with you as you tour that wonderful but also so crazy city of love. Be very careful there, especially since Parisians are not very fond of tourists, and I hope your French is good enough.
Honey, I know what you have just read must be a huge shock to you, but I also know that of all my beautiful family, you were the only one who would understand me. The only one who would know what it means to love a woman, and have to keep the secret from the world, to suffer in silence, and wait for the day to see her again, feel her love again, her voice, her hands, her lips and be fully happy.
I know that my decision that rainy June day, broke her heart into a thousand pieces, although nobody tells me, I know it well, because I knew how much she loved me and dreamed of living with me the rest of our lives there in Paris. But as I said at the beginning of this letter, the decisions of my life were not made by me, but by my parents. Unfortunately, I was very influenced by them, and because of that stupid fear of losing them, I was a coward, and I ran away from the great love of my life, to fulfill the desires of my parents.
The worst thing was not having the courage to said it to my beloved, face to face. Looking into those beautiful green eyes so intense, so expressive, that so many times I had come to the same conclusion, that I loved them madly, because they were mine and only mine. It was precisely that which made me a coward, seeing in those eyes how I would break her heart with my decision to return to America, and continue with my life as my parents had determined it to be.
There was not a day that passed that without me feeling terrible, completely miserable with that decision I made running away from her, while Alexandrine had gone to visit her sick mother in Strasbourg for a few days.
I always tormented myself thinking about what had happened when she returned to Paris, and she found a short letter that I wrote to her, in a sea of tears before leaving. The one that I left on our bed, next to a red rose, and a photo of me, so if she wanted, she will always have something to remember me. Although surely her great love would become from that day on, a tremendous pain and perhaps later hatred.
I broke our sacred promise to stay together no matter what happened, because we loved each other, because we knew we were meant for each other. And even though I kept my promise to love her forever, and never give my heart to anyone else in my life. I didn’t fulfill the promise to stay by her side, and live our life together as we dreamed so much of doing.
My darling Clarke, I hope you don't get mad at me for not confessing to you this part of my past, while I was alive. Like other moments in my life, I didn't have the courage to do it. But you know that I have always supported you with all my heart, trying to be there, hugging you when you were so afraid, knowing that you were like me, bisexual.
I tried to take care of you my darling, and give you everything I would have liked to have had from someone in my family at that time. I didn't want you to suffer as I did, and I thank heaven that the world has evolved so much. And those barriers have been broken down little by little. I’m so happy that today people are much free to love who they want, without feel like they are sinners or something disgusting o even mental sick, like they did in my time.
All those times that I walked with you at the Gay Pride Parades of our city, you don’t know the joy that I had in my heart. Not just being there by your side supporting you, but internally was also for myself and my Alexandrine. Undoubtedly, secretly I always felt that I was celebrating my wonderful different soul, among my very own people.
You know, you reminded me a lot of myself, your energy, your courage to face everyone, and everything, your determined personality. Well, except to confront my parents, of course. But you know, in general in others things. I also love the fact that you have inherited from me, the love for art, and Clarke, you don’t have idea how talented you are. Even if you don't trust yourself so much, I know you will go far. Just always be honest with yourself and your creations, and never let anyone tell you what or how to create your works.
Create from your soul, from what you feel, because your works will always be a window from your internal feelings, a window to your bare soul. And there is nothing more beautiful than what we have inside, there in our hidden inner world, so full of light. A light that we must radiate to the world, because it has been given to us for a purpose in life, not only for our own pleasure, but also to share it with others.
Clarke, my little image, but totally improved than I ever could have been, I hope you can fulfill my last wish when you can. I hope you find my beloved Alexandrine in Paris, or perhaps some member of her family. If she has passed away like me, my wish is that you try to bury my ashes next to her, or as close as you can get. At least that way, on this spiritual path that I must continue, I hope that I will be by her side.
But something tells me that you will find her still alive, because I have not felt anything to indicate that she has already left this world. I know very well that is something I would have felt. So I have my hopes that you will find her, and who knows, maybe you will also find someone else.
All I have is the address of the old bar "Casablanca" where I met her, where I lived that great love story with her, which you will find more in details, in my personal diary. Those were the memories of my heart, dear Clarke, and I wish you keep it close to you always, and read it sometimes, and learn from it also. Never give up to the real love of your life, when come to you, hold it tight and never let it go.
Good luck my dear Clarke, and never forget how much I have loved you, accompanied you and that from wherever I’m, I will try to continue watching over you. And always remember, love without limits, live each moment as if it were the last, live in the present, trust your heart, trust yourself, and never give up. And if someday you have to decide something about the person you love, always do it with your heart and not with your head.
Thank you from the bottom of my heart for helping me fulfill this last wish. But if you can't, don't worry lovely, I know you will try and that will be enough.
Ma belle petite, je t’aime et je t’aimerai toujours.
Ta Nana Clarke…”
(My beautiful girl, I love you and always will.
Your Nana Clarke...)
Clarke was submerged in a sea of emotions and deep thoughts, while reading the excited, and revealing letter that her Nana, as she had affectionately called her since she could talk, had left for her, after her sudden departure.
Everything happened a couple of months ago. Today the urn with the ashes of her Nana was still on the central table of her apartment, since the last wish of the old lady, had been announced by her personal lawyer to the family. Mentioned that Clarke, her granddaughter, take her ashes to be buried in a cemetery in the french capital, Paris.
The Griffin family was shocked by Grandma Clarke's strange last wish. But no one dared not to respect it. Since that moment, Clarke has arranged time off from her job to travel to France, and to be able to bury the remains of her beloved Nana there. At the reading of the will, surprisingly, the lawyer spoke to her privately, handing her that extra package from her grandmother, containing that personal diary along with that long and emotional letter.
The pain of her loss still ravaged Clarke’s heart, who had been very close to her beloved Nana, her maternal grandmother who bore her name. They had been more than grandmother and granddaughter, they had been best friends, pals, adventure companions, and confidants of the deepest secrets they would never tell anyone else.
Clarke felt somewhat hurt that her Nana had never told her the story of that great love. That she had lived and experienced with none other than a woman in Paris, and thus revealing that she was bisexual like herself was. But she held no grudge for her Nana’s silence, she understood the woman she so much admired and loved. In addition, now many things made sense in her mind, many deep talks on the subject. Those gay pride parades, that only her Nana accompanied her representing her family.
Now it made sense those images that came to her mind, of her Nana enjoying the best time of her life, in the company of her gay friends. Dancing, singing, and wearing the colors of the rainbow, with so much pride and joy. She was not only there to support her, and because she loved her, but she was also there for herself and as she said in her letter, for the memory of that woman whom she had loved so much, and who had broken her heart when she left Paris without a word.
So her Nana had really understood her as much throughout her life, as no one had. And when she confessed to her that she had fallen in love with a girl in her class, her beloved grandmother had not even looked angry, or shown any sign of shock or displeasure. Her Nana had smiled sweetly into her beautiful blue eyes, like hers, wiping away her tears by caressing her face gently. Then she had wrapped her in her arms, and had simply shown her support, love, and understanding from that very moment.
Clarke found that her Nana’s attitude full of love and support now made so much sense, it was because her Nana had lived that feeling, had experienced that feeling, and had suffered that fear of being different. Clarke imagined how terrible it had been for her Nana, suddenly discovering herself in love with a woman in that way, and in those times where homosexuality was something extremely taboo and hidden, in most countries, even in the most liberated Europe.
Clarke took the time to recover from such a big revelation, along with so many emotions. She looked at her grandmother's urn and simply took hold of it with one hand and holding it, she made her solemn promise from the soul. With her irritated blue eyes, identical to those of her predecessor, who physically was an exact copy of her, when she had been young. Something that had always shocked Clarke when she saw the black and white old photos, already slightly faded, of her beautiful Nana at that young ages.
Not only did she bear her name, but it was a living physical copy of her, they had even been born on the same day. So Clarke's mother, Abigail, along with her husband Jake, had decided that their first daughter should be named after her maternal grandmother. Because she had been born the same day and had the same eyes. Also because from the first moment the little baby was placed in her grandmother's arms, she clung to the woman's thumb, who was already in her sixties, squeezing it hard. That especial moment, made everyone present in the room realize the spiritual union between granddaughter and grandmother, with fascination.
Clarke had four younger siblings, Harper, Peter, John, and Melanie. Today she was a young woman of 28 years. She was also a highly respected and beloved nurse, at the local hospital where her mother, the prestigious Dr. Griffin was the head of the Obstetrician department for many years. And although her mother had tried to convince her to follow in her footsteps in the medical career, since she noticed that her eldest daughter was attracted to her world, Clarke had chosen nursing career, without leaving her true great love, painting, and drawing.
Many of her colorful works, full of light and positivism, hung in the corridors of the hospital where she worked, in the Pediatric section. Clarke was a supervising nurse in that department. She had always had a special affection for children.
Clarke was without a doubt the favorite nurse of these little patients, whom she helped beyond giving them their medicines, and taking care of them, while they were in the hospital. Nurse Clarke gave them much more, she kept them company, taught them how to create art, and also sang while she played her guitar sometimes when she had free time, gathering them in the external or internal patio, depending on the time of year and the weather.
As for her father Jake, he was an architect living in New York. He had divorced from her mother when Clarke was 15 years old. Although it had been a very difficult period for her and her younger siblings, they really accepted together, that it was a good decision for her parents to follow different roads in their lives. They shared almost nothing anymore, other than family dinners, and a few times together. They had begun to argue more and more, and they knew perfectly well that their love had come to an end.
Finally Abigail and Jake sat down to talk to their children, and between tears and broken hearts, they finished a life together of many years, but there was always a cordial and friendly tone between them, which was maintained even today. Something that their children greatly appreciated.
Clarke’s father had started dating another woman after several years, but they had had no children. The woman he loved, Claire, had two children from a previous marriage, and didn’t wish to have more. Jake accepted that decision easily, since he didn't want more children either.
As for Abigail, Clarke's mother started a relationship with her colleague and longtime friend, Dr. Marcus Kane, an excellent, highly respected and beloved cardio surgeon, and they were still together today, but also had no children together.
Marcus was a great stepfather, companion, and friend. Always mediating in the many differences that always seemed to happen between Clarke and her mother, about almost everything.
Two of Clarke's brothers had already married, and one of them was expecting their first child. Harper had fallen in love with her high school partner when she was a teenager, and the love the young couple had for each other remained firm and strong until they finished high school, and began their legal career together.
Harper married her great love, Monty Green, at the age of 26, she was two years younger than Clarke and they were very close. She had already decided along with her husband that Clarke would be the godmother of that first child they were expecting, which they already knew was a boy, who they would call Jordan Jasper.
As for Clarke's other married brother, Peter, three and a half years younger than his sister. Peter had got married four months ago, to his co-worker, five years his senior, the beautiful brunette Simone. They knew each other at the mall, where they had both been working as site security for a year.
Then there were Clarke’s two younger siblings who were still too young to even think about tying the knot. Her brother John, 23, and her sister Melanie, 20, who was Clarke's shadow, since the young woman was very close to her older sister, in addition to considering her as her best friend and confidant.
Melanie admired everything about her older sister Clarke, from her personality, her artistic talent, to her courage to face everything, and everyone, especially when it came to her sexuality. And Clarke felt that Melanie was more like her daughter, than her sister, in the way she had always cared for and protected her, more than the rest of her siblings.
Clarke held the urn that contained the ashes of her beloved Nana, really feeling her presence at her side, and not just there, inside that object.
“I promise you that I will find your beloved Alexandrine, Nana. I promise that if she still lives, she will read your letter, and know why you left her that day. She will know how much you have loved her, and how much you have regretted that decision. And if she is deceased, no matter what I must do, I swear that your urn will rest next to her remains. Thank you for telling me your wonderful love story Nana. Although I would have loved for you to tell me in person, so I could have hugged you, like you did when I told you about my discovery. But you know well that you have all my support, and all my love, and yes, I know it well Nana, I know that you will always be with me. And don't worry, I won't tell anyone in the family about your secret. Will be one more between you and me, a very special one. I have always admired you so much and valued you, and today I do it even more.
I love you Nana Clarke, and always will...”