Notes to Heaven

2010-03-05T01:46:00.000-08:00

Notes to Heaven was chosen this year to participate in Culture Unplugged's 'Spirit Enlightened' Film Festival. For all of you who haven't seen Notes to Heaven yet it will be available to watch on this site:
http://www.cultureunplugged.com/storyteller/Francesca_Casilli/TFRFPStP
There's a lot of other great things to watch that are participating in the Film Festival, so feel free to stop by and have a look around.
x

Interesting bit of news

2009-04-26T15:02:00.000-07:00

This was an email I received soon after the event took place:

Dear Francesca,

My name is Eleni Paschou and I live in Larisa, Greece. I am a doctor and also hostess of a radio broadcast called "Just as sweet as chocolate" in a radio station called River 103.1 www.riverfm.gr.

The reason I'm writing to you is that on Friday 5.12.2008 one of my listeners communicate with me to tell me that he found a broken red ballon with three letters tied on it near Olympus. I searched on web everything and then I found your blog about Notes To Heaven. The story has already been told in my broadcast and the next days there will be an article in a local newspaper.

I' d like to get in contact with you so that you will give me more details about your effort but also about the film you've created.

Eleni Paschou

2008-11-23T14:44:00.000-08:00

This is the flyer that was made for the event by Susan Canavan.

2008-11-20T07:07:00.000-08:00

To Whom It May Concern,
I realize that you aren’t really gone, not in the definitive, fatal, sense of the word. I’ve lost people before in that way, people I love have died, and I have mourned them. I have also realized that they would want me to live, and love, keeping them in memory but moving forward without them. That’s where this loss differs from those.
If I wanted to, I could take a plane or a train and go and see you. It is not impossible for me to hear your voice again, to revisit the sound of your laugh; to watch you smile, to recognize in you all the features once so familiar. I know you regret it, and I know that I could feel you hugging me again, and could see in your eyes that hope that things could go back to the way they were. That’s if I were to go out and find you. Sometimes it is so tempting. I wonder at those times – where’s the joy in pride? When did anyone become happy because they retained their dignity at the cost of love, or friendship?
This is where loss comes in.
You may not be lost. But what we once had is gone, forever. Never to be replaced. It’s irreparable, broken, shattered. It’s like a flower, plucked. You can’t revive something like that when it’s gone. Do Not Resuscitate. So though you, a person I once cared so much about, are still alive, I have lost who I thought you were, and that’s still terrible and upsetting.
I’m not going to employ my writing skills for this. I’m not going to speak poetically about pain and regret and use words like ‘destruction’ and ‘devastated’ and ‘tragedy.’ What I am is sad: just an insignificant three-letter word that toddlers use. This sadness is a little bit bitter, and a little bit regretful, and a little bit stale, and very tiring. So I’m going to put it away.
I want you to know that at first, I didn’t want to trust. Now, I do again, but I’ve still learnt something. I think that I may have lost something, but I’ve also gained something. I think I’ve gained wisdom about what people are like, in their imperfections, and I’ve grown stronger. I think of all the hurt that so many people go through, such as the people who are writing letters, as I am, and I remember the loved ones that I miss and mourn. I’m reminded, through this letter and through the red balloon project, of how being hurt shapes people, changes them, and sometimes, can even help them. I’ve become a better person because I’ve been hurt, and I’ve even been bettered by sadness: my disposition sweetened, my consideration deepened, my friendships more valued.
So thank you, and goodbye.
Anonymous

2008-11-18T12:55:00.000-08:00

Dearest Papa,
You already know what I’m going to write to you, don’t you? I speak to you so often, in my mind, and feel more or less convinced that you can hear me. It is such a comfort.

But I really like Francesca’s idea of sending messages tied to red balloons. It feels so tangible and… almost festive. All those people’s lives being celebrated, and I will be participating in that—feels so good.

There is one important thing that I did want to say, that perhaps I don’t tell you enough. It’s that what has not dissipated at all, in the 13 years since you died during which so much else has changed, is that good feeling that you are there, holding me by the hand and helping to look after those people that I love so dearly, in particular my children. I suspect that I’ll always count on you for that… maybe even when it is grandchildren (mine, that is!) that I am concerned about. It’s so nice to know that we have our very own angel.

I hope that the state of the world isn’t as abysmal from your vantage point as it seems to me. Perhaps there’s a wonderful ‘larger plan’ that you know about—I hope so. It’s difficult to be optimistic about things right now.

I guess that’s another thing that these red balloons symbolise to me: a bit of faith in a good outcome to all of this…

I love and miss you so much,
Aude xxx

The First Letter

2008-11-07T04:19:00.000-08:00

To you,
I missed you this morning. Like I do most mornings, or most nights when I'm alone. It's awkward being in my own company when you're there between my thoughts and your memory refuses to be ignored. And i wonder if you can see me when I come home and cry myself to sleep because it's all too much for me, my strength is not enough. Sometimes I try to dismiss you, but it's useless. Some days I'm fine, great... But then there'll be a day when it all comes crashing down upon me and I feel as if I've lost you all over again. Those days destroy me, they leave me overwhelmed and curled up in bed - not wanting to breathe, or move... because though I might hate those days, might hate that pain... it's almost better than being without you in every single way. So i suffer because it's the only way it feels like I can hold onto you, the only way not to forget. The worst is wondering what the future would have been, wondering if you and I were something real or if I've only held your memory so high because the only thing that upset me about you was your death... you never managed to upset me in life. People say that time heals all wounds, but I have to wonder why this is taking so long... because this time is drawn out and painful, and I didn't know I was capable of carrying such a burden. No one knew how much I suffered till I could no longer deny it... no longer hide it from everyone. And it was almost worse knowing that someone could see my pain, that I wasn't as strong as I had always imagined myself to be. I want to say goodbye, I do... but it's so difficult trying to come to terms with losing you that I don't even know where to begin. But what I know even better is I have to come to terms with it... because it's futile to suffer forever and I don't want to. I'll never forget that phone call, never. Never forget hearing your best friend screaming that you'd had an accident. I was hysterical, to the point where I even shocked myself. And later on came the call that I had no idea was coming, that you were dead. I thought you'd be better, thought something - someone had to save someone like you... someone so full of life couldn't die like that... couldn't be found on a cold hard road amongst the wreckage of a good night gone bad. I need you to know I'll never forget you... I'm making sure I don't... because though I could never have had enough time with you - the time we had together showed me so much of the person I wanted to be... It's taken me a while to become that person... but I think I'm almost there. I remember what you said before you left me that day... about riding off into the sunset together... and I just have to ask you... how could you leave when the sunset's still waiting?
Love you, Always,
Cesca. x