Love Letters To Suzan

Suzan and I. It's a true life love story writ large, bold, it's magical. It can make you believe in fairies and love dust, cupids aiming arrows, princesses swept off their feet to live in castles happily ever after. Until the princess dies. My Suzan passed away March 20/2019. This book was written in 2017, and published under a nom de plume, or pen name, to protect our identities. It's intensely personal, and of course private. Now, with Suzan gone, it is repurposed; to stand as a memoir of our love that will live on in our words, a testimony to her, a monument made out of a powerful love. A way to keep her memory alive.As a musician, I've written songs with the same intent. Suzan was my life love, and as her partner, keeping her memory alive is my intent. Because no one really dies until they're forgotten. And so this book, published under my real name. It's going to make you cry, as it does me. But it lives, and through this book, and the music, Suzan will too.This book is going to take you close to the very beginning, via our email exchanges, her in Canada, me in Mexico. When all we had was email exchanges.Then her in Mexico, us together. It's a love story. It's romance, hot humid days by the sea, steamy sex, and adventure. It was a book writing itself, a story that had to be documented and recorded. At least it felt that way to us. Like all lovers, we believed this was a love never experienced before in all the histories and herstories. If we were apart, nature itself would protest, throwing around hurricanes and frothy seas. It was that kind of love. It was Hemingway's The Old Man And The Sea, it was Moby Dick. Suzan was my match.So far so good right? Who wouldn't want a love like that? We had our challenges however. First, we lived in separate countries. That's a bit of a problem. And so we spent as much time together as we had apart. That kind of torture should be regulated by international conventions concerning human rights and abuses. There should be a fund lovers can draw on to avoid being apart. But there isn't, and Suzan and I had spent too much time apart. And it's like you're where you are, but your heart is somewhere else. Something critical is just gone. Of course it is, when you're in love, you give it freely to your lover, and you're grateful your lover accepts it. Love hurts, love heals, love is its own special place. When you're in love, you live on a higher plane. When you're in love, your first and last thought is of your lover. You feel synced to the natural order of things. It just feels right. You know it, you don't question it, it aligns you, it enhances you, it sensitizes you. You breath deeper, sleep better, wake beside your heart beating on the pillow next to you. And when you lose your lover, when nothing will ever bring her back, a piece of you dies with her. That part of you that was hers, your heart, your ability to love another person that way, it just dies, because she took it with her. That place inside you is still hers, and she's gone, leaving you just memories. And memories don't love you back. And you miss that. You're disconnected, you're incomplete. And you can't imagine a time when you won't feel that way. You're alive, but also dead, because love is life. And maybe you feel you will never be able to love again. Maybe you're afraid to try. But mostly you just hurt in a place that previously held only bliss. There's love, there's drama, there's the lowest of lows, the highest of highs, break ups, hissy fits, humor, demands, and finally, reconciliation. Sort of. There's royalty; Suzan has a pedigree dating back to 18th century Vienna, There's plans made, plans abandoned, flights missed, hearts broken, hearts healed, hearts on the line in a struggle to be together in the face of seemingly-too-huge-to overcome obstacles. Until one final, unassailable obstacle.