29th letter, the death of my mother

Dear Khodayar, I want to tell you that my mother has died. Since she has died I sometimes wake up in the night and think about her. The shock of her death interrupts my sleep and makes me cry. I used to talk to her about you, about my drive to make art about your life, and about the persecution of refugees by the Australian government. Now I can’t talk to her ever again. And I can’t talk to you either, Khodayar. Inspite of this I feel her presence and your presence in my life. I am not dead yet and I am determined to use my life for love and for remembering. I can’t undo your cruel death but I am witness to what you endured and what you discovered. I must work to free our sisters and brothers who are falsely locked in the same prison where you once stood. Your guidance and her guidance make me strong in that determination. We should not be cruel to each other. You told this to the world Khodayar. Others have also said this. While we are alive we must be kind and loving to one another. We are nor seperated. Anyone who thinks about your life and death can see this. After my mother died I had to write, “Life is so beautiful”, with tears in my eyes, because it is true. Love Stephen