I won't be coming back to you, even though it makes me sad to think about it, Dan. I'm sad it all lasted such a short time, that I didn't get a chance to enjoy Evička, that I'm leaving the two of you on your own, even though I
don't want to. I don't want to leave you. You know I was happy with you. I don't know what made me write 'was' — I still am happy, of course.
But when that boat takes me away, don't grieve. You've got to go on living, Dan. You have a power within you that you'll be able to transmit to others: strength and wisdom and love. It has been a privilege to live with you. Maybe I won't be here tomorrow, but people will remain. Our little girl, all of them, are going to go on needing you and you will go on serving them. And even if we must part for a while, don't let it distress you, don't be sadder than you need be. We'll meet again one day, after all. In a place where nobody will ever separate us again.
Forgive me for writing this particular letter. It's not from lack of faith, it's just that I'm afraid of leaving without having said the most important thing.
All my love,
Your Jitka
28 November 76 Dear Rút,
Something terrible has happened. Jitka died. I don't know how I'm going to live. I'm trying in vain to find some consolation in scripture, from the thought that God's will is inscrutable. Evička will be six months old in two days' time.
I enclose the death announcement. That's as much as I can write.
Your Dan
3 April 1994 Dear Reverend, my friend and deliverer,
I must thank you most of all for your last visit. And also, of course, for the things you brought me, especially the fruit and bananas. I know you or your children don't even have everything you need. But you're the sort of person who makes sacrifices in order to give other people a treat. I've never met anyone else like you. Never. I've only ever known the sort of people who try to fleece the next fellow, to hurt him or even kill him. I used to get drunk with the gang, smoke grass and shoot dope. We used to have a laugh and
fool around with girls and boys. But what was good about it? Nothing except the fact we were all wallowing in the same muck. That's what we had in common. Nothing else. Except for getting involved in the same scams on the odd occasion. We used to share out what we took, but mostly it wasn't fair shares. The one who was strongest got the most. It stands to reason.
Dear Reverend, my friend and deliverer, I thank you most of all for the fact you talk to me as if I never did anything wrong. As if I was the same as you. You told me last time that I ought to think as much as possible about my future. You know that I've never really had a job in my life. I've spent the five years since I was fifteen either in here or loafing around bars where I had a good time. As they say. In other words I spent all I stole. I've no idea what I'll do outside. I've got no proper skills, have I? I could drive a car maybe, or some of the things they taught me in the can like raking leaves, digging and a bit of work on the lathe that I've already forgotten. I used to hate their methods. And all the time I was wanting to have no one over me. And you told me that he is over all of us. Jesus and his love. And I'm going to have debts to pay. And at the same time I'd like to live like a man and not a beast. By which I mean I don't want to drink, smoke or shoot up any more, but have something decent to eat at least. And find some nice girl and have kids. I'd like to be their breadwinner and look after them so they should never be in need. And Reverend, my friend and deliverer, I'd like to make up for the things I've done. And make it up to my Mum first off. I hurt her a lot and cost her a wad of money. And then some of the people I stole from. There was one old neighbour, she was eighty. I stole five hundred from her. That was nothing for me. The price of a bottle in a bar. But not for her. It could have been her dinner money. And I ought to pay back lots more. And give some thought to my future. Nothing definite, I'm afraid. I just know I'll never return again to Satan's world. No way. I'd sooner go and work in a hospital. Only I'd never earn enough there to do the things I've just been writing about. Dustmen are paid better. I don't know whether I'd be up to work like that. I'd like something more. But I've had no schooling and I doubt I'll ever catch up now. There's no time. There isn't the money. But I don't blame anyone. It's my fault the way I wasted my life like an idiot. Maybe you'll be able to advise me, and show me the way in this too. Or maybe he'll show me the way. You've told me so much about him that I'd never heard or dreamt of even. Who had compassion for the least of people? Who said: Ask and it will be given to you? Knock and the door will be opened to you. Another thing I have to tell you. He appeared to me himself.
It was some time in the night when I got this panic attack that I wouldn't keep it up, that there'll be too much for me to change or live up to, and at that moment I heard a voice. He whispered to me, don't be afraid, have faith. Your faith will save you. It wasn't a dream because I looked round the cell to see who'd whispered to me, but they were all asleep, and anyway none of them would say anything like that and then I caught sight of a face above me. It was terribly pale and nothing like the face of a living person. And the moment I set eyes on it it disappeared. Maybe they'll release me next month on probation for good behaviour. I enclose an invitation for you.
Best wishes, Petr Koubek
Dear Petr,
I was really pleased with your letter and am happy that you're sticking to the path you've decided to take.
I'm glad that in your mind at least you've found the path back to your mother. Always remember: 'A foolish son is a grief to his mother.' It also says in the book of Proverbs: 'Hear, my son, your father's instruction. And do not forsake your mother's teaching! And right after that: 'My son, if sinners entice you, do not consent. If they say, "Come with us, let us lie in wait for blood, let us wantonly ambush the innocent… we shall find all precious goods, we shall fill our houses with spoil; throw in your lot among us, we will all have one purse" — my son, do not walk in the way with them, hold back your foot from their paths; for their feet run to evil, and they make haste to shed blood… but these men lie in wait for their own blood, they set an ambush for their own lives. Such are the ways of all who get gain by violence; it takes away the life of its possessors'
You can look up the saying yourself, it is in the first chapter of Proverbs. There you are, already thousands of years ago people had the same worries and problems as we do. Some did their best to live as they should, others longed to get rich at any price and refused to see that the price was precisely their own souls. I believe that you, young Petr, have already grasped the essentials and have now left the paths of those who set murderous ambushes. I don't want to give you the idea that the path you are taking will be an easy one, but one thing I can promise you: you won't
remain alone on that path, there are plenty of good people who will help you and support you when you grow weary. Maybe you won't fill your house with expensive goods, but instead you'll be able to invite the friends you'll make there.
Forgive me for being so brief, but I am giving a talk on television today. I'll be talking about our relations with those who are despised by people for no reason, purely on account of some prejudice.
May the love of Christ remain with you even in the place where you are now living.