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“Okay,” I said gently, then reached for the letter, intent on returning it to the pocket inside of the guitar case. But Ash stayed my hand, his eyes once again on the envelope.
He took a steadying breath and said, “Aiden, would you read it? Out loud?”
His request caught me off guard, but I quickly nodded. “Anything you want, Ash.”
“I might need you to stop,” he let out, his voice thick with emotion. His body was tight with tension and I debated whether I should pull him closer to me, but something about the way he was holding himself told me he needed this moment to himself. Yes, he needed me there, but he didn’t want me to take it from him. He didn’t want me to wrap my arms around him and protect him from whatever it was that the letter said. Just like everything in his life, he wanted to tackle it head-on.
But he was still letting me be a part of it.
I picked up the letter and took my time pulling it out of the envelope and unfolding the pages. The handwriting was neat and legible, but definitely had a masculine edge to it. I didn’t give Ash the chance to change his mind because I knew he would stop me at any point if it became too much.
To the person entrusted to care for my Annie’s heart, my name is Robert Caldwell and I live in Chatham, New Jersey. I hope this letter finds you well and that you don’t mind me reaching out for what, admittedly, are selfish reasons. You see, I want to tell you about my little girl, my Annie. It is only now just settling in, more than three years after losing her, that she really isn’t coming home. That she won’t toss her jacket carelessly over the back of one of the kitchen chairs, that she won’t steal a cookie from the batch that her mother has just finished making, that she won’t throw her arms around my shoulders and answer “best day ever” when I ask her how her day was.
I want you to know that the heart that beats within you was one of the kindest this world has ever seen. That the soul it nourished was generous and giving. Annie was like the sun— she shone so bright that sometimes it almost hurt to be around her. Don’t get me wrong, she had her flaws, though I don’t really think of them that way. She was terribly stubborn and had a temper on her when she encountered any kind of injustice.
When she was little, she was constantly rescuing animals off the street. As she got older, she decided she needed to save people, too. By the time she was thirteen, she’d already figured out which undergrad program she would need to attend to get into medical school. Her hope was to be a pediatrician. The day she got her acceptance letter to Johns Hopkins was the day she saved her first life… well, nine, actually. You see, she was riding her bike to her mom’s office so she could show her the acceptance letter. She was hit by a car.
I heard Ash let out a strangled sound and he covered his mouth with his hand. Tears were rolling down his face. I reached for his hand and said, “Do you want me to stop?”
He shook his head and squeezed my hand hard. “Don’t stop.”
I nodded and forced my own watery eyes back to the page in front of me. I didn’t let go of Ash’s hand as I began reading again.
Annie was the baby of our family, and with four older brothers, it wasn’t a surprise that she often had to deal with our overprotectiveness as we tried to insulate her from the harshness of the world. But our girl knew how unfair life could be… and how precious. I know you think we are the ones who gave you the gift of Annie’s heart, but that was all on Annie. She made the decision to give life after death from the moment she knew such a thing was possible, and she made sure to remind us of her desire often so if the time ever did come, her wish wouldn’t be overshadowed by our grief. It was things like that which made her the heart of our family.
Annie was a spark that shimmered just a bit too brightly for this world and not nearly for long enough. It brings me joy to know that a little bit of that spark lives on through you and the eight other people Annie touched with her generosity before she left us. My intent with this letter is not to pressure you into any kind of return correspondence or meeting. I understand it’s something you might not be ready for, now or ever. It was something Annie’s mother wasn’t up to, either. It was only after losing Victoria a few months ago that I knew it was time to also put Annie to rest.
