Tell the Wolves I'm Home

Prologue: An Invitation to the Unfamiliar

Dear Stranger, I can sense a hesitation in you, a subtle reluctance to delve into the life of someone you've never met. But bear with me.

Who knows, by the end of this letter, we might discover that we're not strangers after all. I am June Elbus, and I'd like you to come with me on a journey that's both uniquely mine and, perhaps, familiar in its echoes within your own heart.

It's a story about love, loss, and the uncharted territories of human connection. So, take a deep breath, and let's step into the unknown together.

Imagine, if you will, a world where art can speak truth to the soul, where the bonds we forge can shape our very identities. I was once a girl enveloped in the comforting cocoon of childhood, with an affinity for the days of yore, and a love for my uncle, Finn, that transcended the ordinary.

His presence was a beacon of understanding in a world that often felt as though it were spinning just beyond my reach. As you read this, recall the person who once understood you better than you understood yourself, whose absence left you adrift.

That's where my tale begins, with the void that Finn's passing left behind.

Chapter One: The Color of Grief

In the wake of loss, the world seems to lose its vibrancy. The greens of the trees become dull, the sky less vast.

This is how I felt when Finn was taken from us—taken by an illness that seemed as cruel as it was relentless. Aids, they whispered, as if the very word were a contagion.

Have you ever lost someone whose very existence was the brushstroke of color on the canvas of your life? If so, then you understand. Grief is more than an emotion; it's an altered state of being, a different plane of existence where time warps and memories become both sanctuary and torment.

As I navigated my teenage years, I found that grief could be a solitary affair. People tiptoe around it, unsure of what to say or do.

But in this loneliness, I also discovered an uncomfortable truth—that grief is a shape-shifter, turning into anger, guilt, and a myriad of other emotions that can isolate you from the world. Yet, it was in this isolation that I stumbled upon unexpected connections, ones that would challenge everything I thought I knew about family, love, and forgiveness.

Perhaps you've felt it too, the way loss can unexpectedly open doors you didn't know existed.

Chapter Two: The Secret Companion

His name was Toby, a shadow figure in Finn's life, and, by extension, in mine. I didn't know of him until Finn was gone, and even then, he was shrouded in mystery—a man who was simultaneously a stranger and an intimate part of my uncle's world.

Our clandestine friendship blossomed out of shared mourning, a need to keep Finn alive through stories, through shared silences. Have you ever connected with someone against all odds, against the tide of judgment and the barriers of circumstance? It's a strange sort of kinship, one that defies explanation and yet feels as natural as breathing.

People often say that grief can make you do unexpected things. For me, it was seeking solace in the company of someone my family viewed with suspicion and blame.

But in Toby, I found an echo of Finn, a way to keep the melody of his life playing a little while longer. I urge you to think of the times you've reached out for connection in the most unlikely of places, how it felt to find a semblance of understanding in the eyes of another.

It is a reminder that we are not islands, but rather, part of a vast and intricate web of humanity.

Chapter Three: The Art of Remembrance

Finn was an artist, and his final masterpiece was a portrait of my sister, Greta, and me. It was more than a painting; it was a message, a repository of hidden truths waiting to be unraveled.

Art, as I've come to realize, is not just about aesthetics. It's a dialogue between creator and observer, a way to say the unsayable.

Have you ever felt words fall short, and found that only through creativity could you express the depths of your soul? The portrait became a bridge between Finn's world and mine, a path for me to understand his life, his choices, and ultimately, his love for us. I poured over every detail, every brushstroke, finding solace in the tangible evidence of his existence.

Art, in its profound silence, spoke to me of legacy and memory, of the indelible marks we leave on each other's lives. Consider the ways in which you remember those who have passed, the talismans you hold dear, the rituals you perform to keep their essence alive.

It is through these acts we continue to learn from them, even in absence.

Chapter Four: The Alchemy of Forgiveness

As the layers of Finn's life peeled away, revealing complexities I could never have imagined, I was confronted with the task of forgiveness. Forgiving my family for their secrets, forgiving Toby for his role in Finn's story, and perhaps the hardest of all, forgiving myself for the misplaced guilt and anger I harbored.

Have you ever stood at the crossroads of bitterness and forgiveness, feeling the weight of each path in your hands? Forgiveness is not a moment but a process, a series of choices that lead you out of the darkness. It's realizing that the imperfections of those we love are threads in a larger tapestry, and that understanding is the loom upon which trust is rebuilt.

I learned that to forgive is not to forget, but to accept and move forward, to allow the past to inform the future without dictating it. Reflect on your own journey with forgiveness, the shackles it can release, and the freedom it can bring.

Chapter Five: The Unseen Connections

In the aftermath of all I had learned, I found that my world had expanded. People I had overlooked became integral to my story, and I to theirs.

Greta, my sister, once distant and enigmatic, drew closer as we navigated the terrain of grief together. It's astonishing, isn't it, how adversity can sometimes bring us closer to those we thought we had lost? We are bound to one another in ways we seldom realize until we're tested.

It was not just the people, but the experiences themselves that wove into the fabric of who I was becoming. Every moment, every encounter, became a thread in the intricate pattern of my life.

Consider your own tapestry, the unforeseen events and hidden players in your narrative. It is often in hindsight that we see the beauty in the weave, the purpose in what once seemed random or inconsequential.

Chapter Six: The Portrait of Growth

With time, I grew to understand that life is not a series of static images but a dynamic portrait in constant flux. I was changing, evolving from the girl who idolized her uncle to a person who could stand on her own, carrying the lessons he imparted.

Growth is a subtle art, one that often occurs in the quiet moments when we think no one is watching. Have you felt it too, the almost imperceptible shift within yourself as you overcome, endure, and emerge anew? As I reflect on the journey I've taken, the pain and the joy, I see now that it's all part of a larger composition.

Each of us is both artist and masterpiece, shaping our lives with the choices we make, the love we give, and the forgiveness we offer. I invite you to view your own life as a work of art, ever-changing and beautiful in its complexity.

Epilogue: A Shared Path Forward

Stranger, though you may have started as an unknown entity, you've walked with me through my story, and in doing so, perhaps you've glimpsed parts of your own narrative reflected back at you. We are more similar than you might have thought, connected by the universal threads of human experience.

My hope is that in sharing my journey, you've found moments that resonate, that stir something within you, and encourage you to reexamine your own path. If my story has moved you, if you've found echoes of your own life in the spaces between my words, then I urge you to seek out the book that inspired this letter, "Tell the Wolves I'm Home" by Carol Rifka Brunt.

Within its pages, you'll find a deeper exploration of the themes I've touched upon, and perhaps you'll come to love June Elbus and her world as I have. It's a masterpiece that delves into the complexities of love, the pain of loss, and the transformative power of art.

By reading it, you'll not only uncover more about my story but also about the enduring strength of the human spirit. Yours, in shared experience and hope for a better understanding of the lives we lead, - June