A true love story:
"November 1974
This is a letter to you, my Tony. I miss you so much.
My Tony, I am writing to you in our book. The book you gave
me. I did write our story in your book. I am sorry it is in
Czech but that is my easy tongue. I am going far away now for
a very long time. You could not come back. You did find some-
one and I am so happy. You need to be loved well, my Tony.
Charlie told me of your message and I am happy my Tony. I am
glad that you are starting a new life. Yes, my Tony, I am
happy for you because you gave me my life and you gave me my
strength and you made me do my work. You let me do my work and
I know it broke your heart to do it. It broke my heart too, my
Tony.
I am writing to you now because I will send this book, our
book, to Sarah. I told you about her. She will try very hard
to send you our book if I am dead. If I die, my Tony, I hope
your book will come to you because I will love you until I die
and then I want you to be sure of our love. I think our story
is over but I want you to be very sure that it was good and you
were my real love and you were the person who made my life what
I wanted it to be. I want you to always know it my Tony. You
were loved so well. I am sorry we could not be always
together. I hope we were right to choose this, Tony. I hope
it was right for you. I let you go because I love you. I know
you thought the same. But it was hard for us, my Tony. It was
so hard.
I have your medal Tony. It will be in a safe place. I cannot
take it with me but I do not want to send it with our book. I
will keep it to come back to if I can ever return here.
I wish I had written all our story in our book my Tony. I am
sorry I could not come back here and write it all those years.
But Tony they were so good. I can always remember everything
of our times. All our times. I can remember it all and it
will always be very strong in my mind.
When I die my Tony you will be in my thoughts. I am frightened
of my new job my Tony. I wish you were holding me. I will go
because you have made me strong. I will go because you are in
my heart. I hope I will do well for us. To make our decision
be the right one, my Tony. I am so alone tonight but if you
ever read this then please do not be sad. Please know that you
made my life possible, that you gave me your strength and that
whatever I do you are there with me holding me close and safe.
Whatever happens my Tony, my real love, you are there holding
me. I know that and I know your thoughts are with me tonight.
I need you tonight and you are here. I must say goodbye my
Tony. If you read this then think of me well. I will try
very hard to talk to you again one day but it will be not
possible for a long time.
And now goodbye my real love. Thank you for knowing me and
loving me. Thank you for my life. I hope I will do good
things for you. I hope that if you read this you will be told
good things of me.
Thank you my Tony. Please do not grieve. Please be happy
remembering our times. Please have a very good and happy life.
Make our story be only happy, my Tony.
How can I ever thank you. As you read this smile for me and
drink some vodka for me and I will be crying for you. I will
be somewhere crying for you. Please be happy my real love.
You who gave me life.
Your own Freya."
..................
I closed the book and held it tenderly, as I gazed into
the fire. I remembered the pathway beneath the trees, the wide
avenue of Hungarian oaks providing living walls and roof for a
pathway stretching many kilometres from the nearby village,
around the mountainside and ending at a picnic area in the
forest. The scene of death and of resurrection, the place
where Freya lost all hope, and where she found it again.
It must have been at about the time that she was writing
the letter to me in her diary, late in 1974, that I was
informed of Freya's death. The message said that she had been
arrested and had killed herself and several secret police in a
car bomb. I was shocked, but hardly surprised. Freya was
certainly totally committed to her quest for freedom and human
rights. Yes, it was possible that she would do this thing.
The agency was clever, I believed their story and did not try
to contact Freya again.
For the next seventeen years my life was busy with love
and business affairs, but I was unsettled, for I continued to
grieve for that wild girl. We chose to part, to go our
separate ways but somehow death was too final, it left one with
no options, no hope.
In the back of the book I had placed four more letters, I took
them out and unfolded them, slowly.
------------------------------------------------
"November 1974
This is a letter to you, my Tony. I miss you so much.
My Tony, I am writing to you in our book. The book you gave
me. I did write our story in your book. I am sorry it is in
Czech but that is my easy tongue. I am going far away now for
a very long time. You could not come back. You did find some-
one and I am so happy. You need to be loved well, my Tony.
Charlie told me of your message and I am happy my Tony. I am
glad that you are starting a new life. Yes, my Tony, I am
happy for you because you gave me my life and you gave me my
strength and you made me do my work. You let me do my work and
I know it broke your heart to do it. It broke my heart too, my
Tony.
I am writing to you now because I will send this book, our
book, to Sarah. I told you about her. She will try very hard
to send you our book if I am dead. If I die, my Tony, I hope
your book will come to you because I will love you until I die
and then I want you to be sure of our love. I think our story
is over but I want you to be very sure that it was good and you
were my real love and you were the person who made my life what
I wanted it to be. I want you to always know it my Tony. You
were loved so well. I am sorry we could not be always
together. I hope we were right to choose this, Tony. I hope
it was right for you. I let you go because I love you. I know
you thought the same. But it was hard for us, my Tony. It was
so hard.
I have your medal Tony. It will be in a safe place. I cannot
take it with me but I do not want to send it with our book. I
will keep it to come back to if I can ever return here.
I wish I had written all our story in our book my Tony. I am
sorry I could not come back here and write it all those years.
But Tony they were so good. I can always remember everything
of our times. All our times. I can remember it all and it
will always be very strong in my mind.
When I die my Tony you will be in my thoughts. I am frightened
of my new job my Tony. I wish you were holding me. I will go
because you have made me strong. I will go because you are in
my heart. I hope I will do well for us. To make our decision
be the right one, my Tony. I am so alone tonight but if you
ever read this then please do not be sad. Please know that you
made my life possible, that you gave me your strength and that
whatever I do you are there with me holding me close and safe.
Whatever happens my Tony, my real love, you are there holding
me. I know that and I know your thoughts are with me tonight.
I need you tonight and you are here. I must say goodbye my
Tony. If you read this then think of me well. I will try
very hard to talk to you again one day but it will be not
possible for a long time.
And now goodbye my real love. Thank you for knowing me and
loving me. Thank you for my life. I hope I will do good
things for you. I hope that if you read this you will be told
good things of me.
Thank you my Tony. Please do not grieve. Please be happy
remembering our times. Please have a very good and happy life.
Make our story be only happy, my Tony.
How can I ever thank you. As you read this smile for me and
drink some vodka for me and I will be crying for you. I will
be somewhere crying for you. Please be happy my real love.
You who gave me life.
Your own Freya."
..................
I closed the book and held it tenderly, as I gazed into
the fire. I remembered the pathway beneath the trees, the wide
avenue of Hungarian oaks providing living walls and roof for a
pathway stretching many kilometres from the nearby village,
around the mountainside and ending at a picnic area in the
forest. The scene of death and of resurrection, the place
where Freya lost all hope, and where she found it again.
It must have been at about the time that she was writing
the letter to me in her diary, late in 1974, that I was
informed of Freya's death. The message said that she had been
arrested and had killed herself and several secret police in a
car bomb. I was shocked, but hardly surprised. Freya was
certainly totally committed to her quest for freedom and human
rights. Yes, it was possible that she would do this thing.
The agency was clever, I believed their story and did not try
to contact Freya again.
For the next seventeen years my life was busy with love
and business affairs, but I was unsettled, for I continued to
grieve for that wild girl. We chose to part, to go our
separate ways but somehow death was too final, it left one with
no options, no hope.
In the back of the book I had placed four more letters, I took
them out and unfolded them, slowly.
------------------------------------------------
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