As many of you know, we have for some time been missing Baroness Litz, a longtime Talossan who has served the country in many different ways (as Seneschal, Justice, and all-around reasonable person). She became incommunicado months ago, and we feared the worst since we knew she'd had some health troubles. Today, His Majesty and I received an email giving us good news from her brother, who also asked us to share it with others who might be concerned.
QuoteMy name is Chris Naylor. I'm Lily's brother. Most of you, of course, know her as Baroness Litz Cjantscheir.
Some time ago, Lily gave me a number of your email addresses.
She asked me to keep them safe and told me that, when the time came, she wanted me to write to you.
Neither of us really knew when that would be.
But, I feel that time has come.
And thankfully, I get to write the email we both hoped I would.
Lily is getting better.
Those four words look very ordinary written down.
To me, they are anything but.
After the better part of two years of cancer, treatment, hospitals, scans, setbacks, uncertainty, good news followed by frightening news, and days when simply getting through the day was enough, being able to say she's getting better feels enormous.
We've learned to be careful with hope.
There have been times when things seemed to be improving and we were frightened to believe it.
Times when we stopped looking too far ahead.
Times when life became about getting through the next appointment, the next treatment, the next scan, the next result.
So I'm not telling you the journey is over.
It isn't.
There is still treatment, monitoring and healing ahead.
But something has changed.
She's stronger.
She's eating better.
She's awake for longer.
She's laughing more.
She's arguing with me more, which I'm choosing to regard as an excellent clinical sign.
And, perhaps most importantly of all, she's talking about the future again.
Little by little, I'm getting my sister back.
And little by little, I'm seeing Litz come back too.
That's partly why it feels right to write now, just as the election to the 63rd Cosă has finished.
For quite some time I've had another job alongside being Lily's brother.
I've been her unofficial Talossan correspondent.
In other words, I've been lurking on Witt.
When Lily became too unwell to keep up with Talossa herself, she asked me to look occasionally and tell her what was happening.
So I did.
Then occasionally became regularly.
And during this election, I've been trying to follow everything and report back to her.
I have now followed an entire Talossan general election and still don't properly understand Talossan politics.
Lily tells me this means I'm fitting in nicely.
But somewhere along the way, those little Talossa updates became much more important than either of us expected.
For nearly two years, cancer has tried to dominate everything.
So many conversations with my sister became about appointments, scans, treatment, medication, results, sleep, food and pain.
"How are you feeling?"
"Did you sleep?"
"Have you eaten?"
"What did the doctor say?"
"When's the next appointment?"
"Are you okay?"
They're questions you ask because you love someone.
But after long enough, you realise how much you miss asking them about absolutely anything else.
Cancer has a horrible way of making someone's world very small.
Then I'd sit beside Lily and say:
"Right. Talossa update."
And suddenly we'd be talking about an election.
Or something somebody had written on Witt.
Or an argument I didn't understand.
I'd mention someone's name and she'd smile.
I'd confidently explain something and she'd tell me I'd got it completely wrong.
Sometimes she'd laugh.
Sometimes she'd roll her eyes.
Sometimes I'd receive a lengthy explanation of some piece of Talossan history that apparently made the whole thing perfectly obvious.
It generally didn't.
And sometimes she'd simply say:
"That's Talossa."
But for those few minutes, something wonderful happened.
Cancer wasn't the most important thing in the room.
...
And that brings me to what Lily particularly wanted me to tell you.
Thank you.
Not the polite sort of thank you people put at the end of an email.
A real one.
From Lily.
From me.
From the people who love her.
Thank you.
For every message.
Every email.
Every prayer.
Every good wish.
Every little joke.
Every time somebody asked:
"How's Litz?"
Every time somebody remembered her name.
Every bit of ordinary Talossan nonsense that gave us something else to talk about.
You may have sent her a two-line message and forgotten about it five minutes later.
She didn't.
You may have thought asking after her was nothing.
It wasn't.
You may have quietly remembered her in a prayer and assumed it couldn't possibly make much difference.
It did.
The little things mattered.
...
Hopefully, if things continue moving in the right direction, this will be the last email you receive from me about Lily.
And I mean that in the happiest possible way.
Because I hope the next person you hear from won't be Litz's brother giving you another update.
I hope it will be Litz herself.
I hope one day, perhaps during the life of this new Cosă, you open Witt and suddenly see a familiar name:
Baroness Litz Cjantscheir
And after all these months of remembering her, praying for her, asking after her and quietly keeping her place, I hope she finally gets to type the four words she's been saving:
"Did I miss anything?"
And perhaps, after everything, there will only be one answer she really needs:
"Welcome home, Litz."
God, I hope I get to see that.
Until then, she sends her love, her gratitude and her very best wishes to you all.
She misses you more than you probably realise.
And she is determined to find her way back.
Thank you for remembering my sister while she fought to remember the person she was before cancer.
Thank you for helping her hold on until she could begin looking forward again.
And thank you, from a brother who will never be able to adequately repay the kindness you've shown somebody he loves very much, for simply being there.
With all my heart, thank you.
Chris Naylor
Lily's brother
P.S. Lily insists that after following an entire Talossan election I should know how to finish one of these properly by now.
So:
¡Viva Talossa!
This is wonderful news. May she continue to increase in health.
I am so pleased and overjoyed to hear an update on the dear Baroness!
-Txec R
Can we recruit Chris?
Quote from: Miestră Schivă, UrN-GC on Yesterday at 07:46:25 PMCan we recruit Chris?
I immediately offered him an ambassador's account, but of course I assume he must know that he would be welcome if he wanted to immigrate!