15th October 2046
Dear Lizzie,
My special and much-loved granddaughter.
When you are reading this, I will be gone. Please do not mourn me, I will be happy. And do not mourn for yourself because your tears will blur your vision, and I really need you to read this note and take in what I am saying to you.
Lizzie, looking back, my life has been foolishness – I was so foolish, how I chuckle over it and shake my head! I spent my life disregarding and ignoring love, when it was beside me all the time. Love is the essential truth of it all, but love has many faces… That is not what I need you to concentrate on now though, so let’s get to the matter in hand and I will stop my old woman rambling.
My obituary will be a lie. ‘Loving Grandmother, mother and daughter’ – a lie by omission.
I didn’t think I would mind slipping anonymously from this life, leaving what I did unknown and unrecorded. But as the end is in sight, I find that I do mind. I need to tell my story, and I want to tell it to you.
Lizzie, in the parcel with this letter is my walking stick. It is very important – one of the only three material things in this world that I have treasured. One of the other items of personal value is in the top of the cane – look at the silver top, twist it thrice and a tiny lever will pop out, click and turn it and the top will open. The tiny space is just large enough to hold a tablet of arsenic – but I have need of that now in this coming hour. In its place is my wedding ring – for you – and an encrypted microchip. These three things – the walking stick, the wedding ring and the story of my life (You will have no difficulty with the password, to decipher the encryption, if you think about the stories that bind us.) is what I bequeath to you, with my love.
On the microchip is the story of my life.
Stories. They bind us together, don’t they? Ever since you were born, I have told you stories, filled your head with them at every opportunity. Let me tell you one more. It has been hastily scribbled. This story is told of old; gift wrapped truth for the few who hear. Please read it. Read it and then make your choice on whether to return to your life or pick up the silver topped cane.
What is most important to me, is that you will know my story: You will know who I am – who I was and how I became that person.
Now, Lizzie, do not get distracted: You need to hide away the stick and microchip (you can wear the ring). Deny their existence. Should a stranger ever ask you about either, deny all knowledge – this is important Lizzie – let no-one know I have given them to you. Unless after having read my story, you decide to pick up the walking stick. This will let everyone know you are my granddaughter, and they will listen to you.
Love Nana Clara
Marine Moments 