I promised you I’d give you only happiness and joy but today... first deception. It’s a really sad day for your old tata and there is no way to escape it.
I really need to talk to you about something... someone... and I don’t know how I can do it.
Well, your father... baby, I love you, you know it, but you aren’t the first one. I know it sounds terrible and offensive but that’s true. You’re my baby, but I have other children.
Sorry, I feel so, so... bad about this. I’m hurting you and I’m hurting them too, and there’s no solution because you’re my son and I love you but they’re my children too, and I love them.
Never ceased to love them. Never been able to cease to love them. Never desired to cease to love them.
And... I’m really sorry. This is an awkward letter, I know it, I can only repeat and repeat and repeat but... Uff, slow down Luka, just breathe, calm down.
They’re dead, ok? They died long ago, they were still babies and I can’t even think at it. I look at you, so little, yet full of energy, and life – life, oh my God – and I see them. I see them, I see them.
Jasna. Curly hair, just like her mother’s, brown eyes and her mommy’s smile. Her thin arms around my neck, her skin, her crazy way of talking. The way she said “Volim te, Tata”. The way she laughed. All gone, all gone. She died while I was trying to breathe for her. She died in my arms. As if I stole her last breath. Sixteen hours to get born, an hour to die.
Marko. Just like me at his age. My eyes, my nose (poor boy), my mouth. It was me, but more beautiful. His happy face, he was never disappointed, never angry, always smiling and toddling around, chasing his sister, holding my leg. He loved chocolate, he had it always plastered on his face, on his hands. All gone, all gone. He died buried in his crib, a brick wall fell against him. I know he suffered, I know he was scared, I know he realized he was going to die.
And I’m here and you’re here. And I love you, you’re alive, you deserve to be, and you’ve already had a rough beginning and I shouldn’t add this but I can’t help doing it. Fifteen years, you know? Fifteen years ago they died, they all died. Where’s the sense in that?
Scary dad, huh? Sometimes I wonder you could meet them, but it’s a crazy thought. You’re there, they aren’t. If they had been there, you... no, I don’t want to think like that. You’re not a substitute, ok? I’m not replacing them. This would hurt you more, and it would hurt your mom, and it would hurt them too. No one deserves this. You’re my son and I love you and I’m glad you are my baby.
Ok, I’m going to end this, because I shouldn’t have written it in the first place. It’s only I’m not sleeping well these nights, keeping thinking about them and you and I can’t burden your mom, she’s already tired and she’s learning to deal with you (though she’s already great at this).
You’re my family, I won’t go anywhere. You have a special place in my heart, but they too are still in my heart. Ok? I hope I haven’t hurt you too much.
I love you, baby.
Lo so, l'angst vi mancava parecchio...