A letter to a dead man...

By: Julie Keko (for her late husband, Teodor Keko)

my dear dory,

I haven't written for some time, I know, but I talk to you every evening. After the day ends and I get ready for sleep, of course the thought goes to the things that went well or not, or to what is expected to happen. I always wonder how Dori would have acted if he were in my place, and honestly I often get the right answer.

I wish I didn't have to write this letter on the eve of your 60th birthday, but I was busy with the boys preparing a surprise party for you. Then, on your birthday, I would like to tell you many things Dori, looking you in the eye...

To tell you about little Theo who bears your name, about Martin who is now my best friend, about Elio, once so pampered, who has become a caring father, who gives Theo and Kit so much love and me so much lots of spiritual support.

What can I tell you, Dori, on this anniversary of yours?... It's been 16 years since you left, and every day that goes by I miss me and the children more, every holiday is sad without you, every visit to Tirana is a pain , because it makes even more evident the fact that you are no longer there, every coffee in your favorite cafe is ugly.

The only nice thing I can tell you is the fact that everyone remembers you: friends, relatives, your many readers.

And this, despite the fact that it makes me not feel completely alone, but to have you by my side in 100 ways, it is still not enough to find the strength to celebrate your birthday, except to bring you a big bouquet of flowers, two glasses of cognac for us both, to light a cigarette while talking...

Let me tell you a secret… I know where I am writing this letter…. I'm by the lake in Pogradec, right at the hotel where we spent our honeymoon.

Of course, the hotel has changed a lot, but my room is almost over the lake, just like it was then. Even Pogradec has changed, but for me it will always remain that sweet little town, where Martini was born.

Everyone laughs when I tell them that the eldest son, now 33 years old, is a pure product of Belushka fish and many glasses of wine produced in Pogradec, enjoyed by us in the most beautiful summer of my life, that of 1984.

Before I close, I want to tell you about Theo, who has changed our lives happily. It seems to me, like every grandmother, the sweetest child in the world. It is a feeling I had never experienced in my life, sublime love.

Often Kitty laughs at me and says: "I think you've fallen in love with this little man." Every time I see him and caress him I remember you, I'm glad he has your name, but I believe so bad that you never met, although I'm sure he will be proud of his grandfather.

Every time I tell him fairy tales, always in Albanian, because I am determined to teach him our language, at the end I tell him how beautiful it would be if grandfather Dori told him these fairy tales and believe me he sees me with those eyes of his big blue and smile, you say you understand me.

I'm leaving before I sadden your already peaceful life with my earthly daily life filled with your absence.

I love you so much,

Julie