Vasco is a little boy I used to tutor in English in Bulgaria for a few years. He became a very special friend. He was one of the brightest, happiest, funniest, most talented kids I've ever known. He died last year. I still cannot believe it. I think he was 10. 

There is no way I will ever be able to put down on paper how I felt when I learned about his death and how I miss him. Death is so hard to understand, to accept, to deal with... but when it's the death of a child... Oh, God! How can we even *start* accepting this? How can we even *start* making peace with the world and with ourselves after that? 

The only consolation I have (and I know the consolation *I* have doesn't really matter) is that while he was alive, he was really alive - he lived so fully and was so happy, as few people are. I have a lot of admiration for his parents. They knew what was coming... and they knew what was important in life. As his mom wrote to me, "he was born doomed and he lived in spite of that". Vasco - there is so much you never got to experience, but there is so much you did! And there is so much you gave those around you. 

Today I was looking at some old pictures and I saw him, smiling, standing near the vegetable cart at the farmers market. We took the picture when we went to the market to learn the names of the fruits and vegetables in English. And there he is - wearing his white cap, standing next to the bright red tomatoes and yellow peppers. He is squinting a little (I guess he was facing the sun), with a shy smile on his face (although he was not a shy boy) - probably at that moment he was somewhat conscious of the old sellers who were watching us take the pictures. What a strange way to remember him - Vasco next to the tomatoes - and yet what a vivid, colorful memory of that day, of that boy, of those eyes. How can he be gone, when he is right here, standing and smiling shyly?

As with so many people we love, I never told you how important you were to me, how much I loved you - I thought I had all the time in the world. I thought I would see you grow up, I thought I would see you marry, I thought I would see your children. I thought the long thick pale scar on your chest  (God! that scar was so big for such a small boy!) was something concerning only the past. How could I have known? And yet, how could I have not known? But I hope you felt what I didn't say. I am so lucky I knew you. Rest in peace!

Vasco, lipsvash mi! Nadjavam se, che si shtastliv, kadeto i da si (a az znam kade si!). Ne zabravja anglijskija. Prodalzavaj s kitarata. Lipsvat mi tvoite pesni. Osobeno "Vjara, Nadezda, Ljubov". Spomnjash li si? Nauchi se da polzvash email. Taka i nikoga ne si pisahme... Risuvaj morski dana. Sglobjavaj dinozavari. A moze bi sega dori si imash malak dinozavar, kato kuchentse, koj znae? Idi v zoologicheskata gradina i si spomni za zivotnite, koito vidjahme. Ne zabravjaj shapkata si...

Iskam pak da chuja smeha ti. O, Gospodi, kolko mi lipsvash! Kak e vazmozno! Zashto? Vizdam usmisvkata ti, sivite ti ochi - kolko iskah da te vidja porasnal... iskah da vidja detsata ti sled godini... predstavi si... stara ti uchitelka... smeshno, nali?

Vase, vidjah roditelite ti tova ljato. Stranno, nali? Trjabvashe da vidja teb... ti si prichinata, che nie s tjah se vidjahme, no teb te njamashe. Ne otidihme nito u nas, nito u vas. Otidohme na restorant vsichki zaedno. Vashte sa dobre. Mama vse taka se usmihva, tatko ti vse razkazva smeshni istorii. Batko ti e porasnal mnogo. Napravihme snimki. Govorihme si za teb. Lipsvashe ni. No ti znaesh, nali?

Vasco, ela njakoj pat v sanja mi, usmihni se pak s lunichavoto nosle, edin posleden pat, ela da pogalish Kimi, kazi mi kak si. Lipsvash mi, Vase! Milo momche, milo malko momche, koeto zavinagi shte si ostane edno malko momche.

Vase - eto snimka ot vecherta. Tova e sled restoranta.

Batko, tatko, mama i az.